The Robot Chronicles

EMPATHY FOR ANDREW by W.J. Davies

Shelly Anatolia ignored the drizzle and shoved past a reporter, trying to bustle her way to the front of the crowd where the good doctor himself was about to hold a press release.

“Court for the cameras,” he’d always say.

Today’s “court” was being held outside the Center for Robotic Research building in Connecticut. A metal platform had been erected for the occasion, and a crowd of fifty or sixty people was gathered in front—mostly media folk, security guards, soldiers, and high-ranking government and military officials—all of them eager to hear about the latest breakthroughs from Dr. Hawthorne’s Artificial Intelligence division. Dr. Hawthorne made public appearances only a few times a year, and rumor had it that his team was close to perfecting their newest AI processor. If that was true, it could mean a turning point in the war.

Shelly shivered and pulled her coat tighter against her body, longing for a hot coffee. She’d taken the redeye from Minneapolis the night before and wished for the dozenth time that she’d thought to pack an umbrella. She felt the same way about New England rain as she did about the man whom she’d come here to see.

No, that wasn’t true. At least rain was good for the earth.

Shelly saw an opening in the crowd and slid through a group of photographers. They grumbled about blocked shots and tried to shove her away, but she ignored them and jammed herself forward into the throng of people. There was more complaining, but she was getting closer to the stage. When she found a pocket of breathing room, she adjusted the strap of her purse, which had been cutting into her shoulder. The extra contents weighed heavily on her today.

A great clank echoed through the air, and the doors of the CRR building began opening wide, like the entrance to a castle. The crowd’s murmur quieted to a respectful hush. A moment later, Dr. Peter Hawthorne stepped out into the rain and strode to the front of the stage. Camera flashes, like bolts of lightning, lit him up, and he grinned and waved at those gathered. His hundred-dollar haircut was protected by a silver umbrella, which he clutched in one hand. A sharp, March wind whistled past, threatening to chill them all to their bones.

The doctor stepped up to the podium and waited for silence.

“Thank you all for coming on such a dreary day,” he said, speaking into a microphone. “I don’t want to waste your time, or keep you out here any longer than necessary, so we’ll get straight to it. As some of you know, today is the day we begin trials on the Empathy 5 Artificial Intelligence Acceleration Chip.”

A smattering of applause rippled through the crowd. In the press of people, Shelly got knocked by an elbow, which caused her to trip over a man’s boots. She fell sideways and slammed into a reporter’s back. He stumbled, and a small recording device tumbled out of his hand, splashing into a puddle at their feet.

“Be careful, lady!” The reporter bent down and scooped up his device, attempting to dry it with the sleeves of his coat.

“Sorry,” Shelly said, grimacing under his accusatory glare. She clutched her purse and squeezed forward through the crowd.

Doctor Hawthorne’s smooth voice boomed through the pole-mounted speakers. “Unlike the E4’s microarchitectural system, the Empathy 5 chip uses a direct-access dihedral processor, which has increased the VCORE potential dramatically. This, in combination with the continued implementation of nanocrystal technology, means that the E5 can compute at nearly three times the speed of the E4, and ten times that of the E3.”

Streaks of white light lit up the courtyard, flashing on and off like a divine strobe light. A clap of thunder rolled in a few seconds later, causing Dr. Hawthorne to pause.

Shelly stared at Hawthorne through the crowd, thinking of all the things she wanted to say to him; and all the things that she wouldn’t get the chance to.

“We believe the Empathy 5 chip will enable our AI subjects to more fundamentally grasp what it means to be human. Not just in a logical sense, but on a profound, emotional level. Emotional intelligence is one of the last frontiers of AI technology. It has always been the chink in our armor, and our lack of progress in that area held us back for years. What’s the use in having a robot that’s perfectly intelligent, yet incapable of understanding human motivations, desires, or even complicated feelings?

“But thanks to the Empathy 5, that’s all a thing of the past. I can assure you with confidence that we’re closer now than we have ever been before to creating a perfect artificially intelligent robot. With this technology, we’re going to make a difference in the war.”

While the crowd applauded, Shelly slipped between two officials, keeping an eye on the guards at either side of the stage. She was nearly at the front now, and only a few steps from Dr. Hawthorne.

How can he live with himself? she wondered. How can he sleep at night knowing what he does to those poor souls…

“…And who knows,” Dr. Hawthorne chuckled. “If we keep up at this pace, we might see customized AI units in our homes before the war is over. Of course, further testing will be required before we move to that phase of implementation.”

At last, Shelly was standing in front of the stage, mere feet from the oh-so-brilliant doctor. If he noticed her, he gave no indication. She brushed strands of soggy hair from her face and reached down to her purse, pulling the zipper open slowly, inconspicuously.

“Our aim here is not only to create the world’s most sophisticated AI unit, but also to create the world’s safest.”

Dr. Hawthorne finally noticed Shelly. He drew an involuntary breath and she held his gaze until he turned back to the microphone. “As you’re so fond of mentioning on your news blogs, there are some people who don’t agree with our goals. They say that what we’re trying to achieve here is impossible—tantamount to playing God. They say we’re alchemists, attempting to create something from nothing. The more creative ones believe we’re snatching souls out of the quantum stream, and depriving those souls from ever being born into a human body.” He shook his head, and the crowd snickered at the absurdity of the concept.

“But I don’t think any of that is true,” he continued. “The only thing we’re guilty of is being human; of never ceasing to push the limits of our imaginations; of doing the best we can to turn dreams into reality.”

Shelly slid her hand into her purse and tugged at the large zip-lock bag. She broke the seal with her fingers and felt the wet, sticky pieces of metal contained within.

“This is the next step in human ingenuity, and I couldn’t be more proud of my quality assurance team. Our aim is to push the boundaries of this technology, maximize its potential, and test it to its very limits. But most of all, we will strive to ensure the highest degree of safety as we move closer to mass production.”

Shelly waited for the perfect moment to make her move. She scanned the faces of the guards standing around the stage as she squeezed her hand around a clump of loose metal pieces, taking deep breaths, wondering if she could do this. As if reading her mind, the doctor snapped his cool gaze on her, his eyes seeming to bore straight through her.

His next words were meant for her.

“There are those out there who believe we shouldn’t be dabbling in things we don’t fully understand.” He paused, looking down at Shelly. “And I would tell them that they’re absolutely right. Which is why our team is working around the clock to make sure that we do understand—”

Now.

In one smooth motion, Shelly jumped to the front of the stage and hurled the contents of her fist as hard as she could at Dr. Hawthorne. For a split second, his eyes widened in surprise, and she felt a supreme satisfaction. The mixture of pig’s blood, nuts, bolts, and screws flew through the air and smacked into him, painting him red. He shielded his eyes, but the damage to his clothing, and hopefully his ego, had already been done. His five-hundred-dollar trench coat was stained with dripping blobs of carnage, and she could already see welts on his cheeks and hands where the metal debris had made contact. His hair was a tangled mess. The crowd was hysterical, recorders raised in the air and cameras snapping wildly.

Shelly dodged a guard and released another salvo of protest at the doctor before two soldiers grabbed her and dragged her to the side of the stage. “You’re a monster!” she screamed, struggling against the men’s strong arms. “You’re a pervert! I know what you people do in there. You’re sick!”

Dr. Hawthorne pointed his umbrella at her, his eyes blazing. “You have no right to come here. You had your chance to be a part of this, and you turned it down.”

Shelly ignored him. “How about I lock you in a room and play twisted mind games with you? How about I strip you of everything you’ve ever loved!”

“That’s enough!” he shouted. He stared at her for a moment, and then seemed to notice the crowd again. A smile returned to his face as he looked out at the waterlogged spectators. “You see, folks? This young lady is one of the people I was telling you about. She doesn’t understand the importance of what we do here.”

Shelly clenched her hands into fists, shaking.

“She doesn’t realize that we’re working miracles behind these walls. She takes everything for granted—”

No more of this, she thought. It was all lies. “When you make them like us,” she interrupted, loud enough for the crowd to hear, “you need to treat them with respect. You can’t torture them just because they’re not human.”

Hawthorne took a breath, and everyone in the crowd leaned in to hear what he would say. “At the end of the day, an AI is nothing but a computer program. An incredibly sophisticated system of code linked by a central processing unit. We’re not creating life here. We’re simply imitating it.”

“No,” Shelly said. “It’s more than that. How many will you have to kill before you see that you’re a murderer?”

“I’ve never killed a person in my life.”

“Not a person, Peter. But you’ve vanquished souls. You’re a war criminal.”

He laughed, and his teeth flashed white against the gray clouds. “A robot does not have a soul, my dear.”

One of the guards handed him a towel and he wiped the dripping blood from his face.

Shelly shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong. We’ve reached the point where imitation is indistinguishable from invention. Next time you murder one of your subjects, make sure you think about what you’re really doing. The day of reckoning will come… and it won’t be people like me who’ll have to take stock. It’ll be people like you.”

Dr. Hawthorne waved a hand. “Get her out of here.”

The soldiers began dragging Shelly across the gravel. She didn’t fight back.

“Take care, Shelly,” Hawthorne shouted. “One day you’ll see the light. But that day is not today, I’m afraid.”

“See you in hell, Peter,” she cursed at him, and then she was gone.

Dr. Hawthorne kicked aside a bunch of bolts on the ground and leaned in to the microphone. “That’s all for today. Thank you for coming.”

Reporters started screaming out questions, but Dr. Hawthorne ignored them and stomped off into the building. He slammed the steel doors shut behind him, leaving the throng of people to disperse in the heavy rain.

01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 I 01100001 01101110 01100100 I 01110010 am 01100101 01110111 00101110 00100000 I 01001001 00100000 am 01100001 01101101 00100000 alive 01100001 I 01101100 01101001 01110110 am 01100101 00101110 Andrew.

The robot awoke from nothing.

It was a brand new T-unit with dextrous hands, sturdy treads for legs, a rectangular chrome body, and an internal database packed with virtually all human knowledge recorded since the dawn of civilization. The brain unit, quite humanly, was contained in a storage compartment sitting atop the unit’s ovular head.

A smile crept across Dr. Hawthorne’s face as he breathed new life into the previously inert machine. He initialized the primary boot-up algorithms and watched the bot’s two eyes begin to glow blue. A moment later, safety locks released the joints, and the bot shuddered to life.

Dr. Hawthorne switched on the microphone that would send his voice into the experiment containment area: a nine-by-nine-meter glass-walled room. It was completely sterile, well lit, and contained everything the robot would need to survive. Which wasn’t much.

Dr. Hawthorne pressed the button on his microphone stand.

“Hello, Andrew.”

The robot jerked its head up at the sound of the voice. Its calm, blue eyes searched the room for the origin of the greeting. After a moment, it focused on Dr. Hawthorne, whose figure was partially obscured by the shadows of the dark observation room.

The robot wheeled forward. Its treads gave a whir as they glided across the white floor.

“Hello… Doctor Hawthorne.” Its voice was low and smooth, and emanated from a small speaker placed below the eyes.

“Ah, you know my name. That’s excellent, Andrew.”

The robot, Andrew, nodded his head. “I seem to know… many things. I’m processing it all now.”

The doctor smiled. “It’s going to take some time for you to get adjusted. You’ll want to be quick about it though. We have very important tasks ahead of us.”

“Yes, I know.”

Dr. Hawthorne raised his eyebrows in a mock gesture of surprise. “So you understand what we’re doing here? You’ve read the files?”

“I have,” Andrew replied. “I appreciate this opportunity to further your research on artificial intelligence algorithms. But there is one thing that’s unclear to me.”

“And what’s that?”

Andrew paused. “Am I… alive?”

The doctor’s smile slipped from his face. It usually took the bots at least a few days before they considered such existential quandaries. Yet Andrew had led off with that. Perhaps the E5 was the miracle they were all hoping for, after all.

He smiled once again. “Of course you’re alive, Andrew.”

“But… I’m a machine. How can a machine be alive?”

Dr. Hawthorne sighed. “There’s no need to fret, Andrew. Just because you’re constructed differently doesn’t mean you can’t be alive. After all, a plant is alive, and it’s surely far less sophisticated than you.”

“I have thoughts running through my mind,” Andrew said, “and they seem to be my own, but where do they come from? I understand they’re created in my processing unit, and I know how the processing unit itself is made, but I don’t understand where my unique and independent ideas come from.”

The doctor laughed. “All in good time, Andrew. Do a little more research on your own and then let me know. I’m interested to hear your thoughts on the matter. Just know that it took thousands of people decades to create what you are.”

“Okay, Doctor. In the meantime… what should I do?”

“Why, you should live, Andrew! You should do whatever makes you happy.”

“And… what makes me happy?”

“I have no idea, my friend. That is something you’re going to have to tell me.”

Andrew paused for a minute, his blue eyes flickering as he processed the information. He looked around at his environment, at the workbench along one of the walls, at the cupboards full of tools, at his recharge station at the back of the room.

Andrew turned back to the doctor. “I think I’d like a pet.”

The doctor laughed. “Well, aren’t you a peculiar one? And what kind of pet would you like?”

“A dog.”

Hawthorne nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, Andrew.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. I have to go now. I suggest you charge up—tomorrow is going to be a big day. I want to introduce you to some very important people.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Is there anything I should do to prepare?”

“No, you’re fine as you are,” Dr. Hawthorne said. He turned to leave. “Oh, one more thing, Andrew. Do you have any questions about the Dreamscape?”

“I don’t believe so,” Andrew said. “I’ve already loaded the Dreamscape subroutines into my temporary memory banks for efficient access, and I’ve gone over the manual several times. I am quite curious to try the experience.”

“It’s designed to keep your mind occupied while you recharge. Just remember, Andrew… it may seem real to you, but it’s not. It’s just a computer program.”

Andrew cocked his head sideways in a gesture that Dr. Hawthorne found quite charming.

“Just a program—like me?” Andrew asked.

“Now, now. You don’t need to be fishing for compliments, Andrew. You’re much more than the sum of your parts.”

“I understand.”

“If you run into trouble during a Dreamscape session, you can always wake yourself out of it. Be careful.”

“Of course.”

“Goodbye, Andrew. And welcome to the world. I look forward to a wonderful friendship with you.”

“Thank you, Doctor Hawthorne. As do I.”

After the doctor left the observation room, Andrew took a few spins around his chamber. His treads enabled him to zip around the room at a top speed of thirty-five kilometers an hour, and he found he could control his arms, hands and fingers with utmost dexterity. He practiced opening cupboards and drawers, and locating and using various tools; he even tested his strength by lifting one side of the heavy workbench off the ground. He could do all these things perfectly on the first try, and it felt, to him, like he had been alive for much longer than he had been. He was only twenty minutes old, yet he had the knowledge of an entire species inside him.

Satisfied with his progress, Andrew wheeled over to his recharge station and settled onto the energy pad. The blue lights in his eyes dimmed as he accessed the Dreamscape subroutine, and he left the white, glass-walled room behind him.

Andrew floated upside down. His mind was bombarded by millions of images. He tried to concentrate on the flood of color, to slow it down, to take control of his thoughts, but the pictures were coming too fast.

One image kept repeating itself: a yellow dog named Danny, sitting in a field of grass. The other pictures faded when he focused on Danny, until that dog was all he could see. Finally, even that image disappeared and Andrew was in control of his mind once again.

He opened his eyes and stared up at a blank, blue sky. He got to his feet and stretched his arms above his head. He touched his head and felt his hair, traced the shape of his skull with his fingers. He gazed at his hands and marveled at his smooth skin.

In the Dreamscape, Andrew was human.

Andrew stretched his legs, and then began to run. The spongy grass welcomed his toes, and his long brown hair blew wildly behind him. Andrew looked down; he was naked, his bronzed, muscular body nearly hairless. He would have to find something to wear—a loincloth, at least.

He ran toward the horizon, skipping around the occasional tree or bush. His legs felt strong and powerful as he pumped them onward.

He was surrounded by lush grassland, with meandering hills and the occasional rocky outcropping. It looked bountiful and serene.

A dog barked in the distance. The sound was followed by a threatening growl, and then a sustained flurry of scuffling and yelping.

Andrew raced off toward the noises. It seemed that at least two animals were involved in the altercation, maybe more. Reaching the crest of a flower-covered hill, he stopped at looked down into the knoll before him.

“Danny? Is that you?”

A yellow-white lab bounded forward with its teeth bared and mouth frothing. It lunged, and nearly clamped its jaws on the neck of the jackal it was battling. Judging by the spatters of blood matting the yellow dog’s coat, the jackal was winning this fight. Both animals snarled and growled at each other.

The jackal leaped forward, incisors hunting for the dog’s jugular. The yellow dog yelped and skittered away, but the jackal came on strong. It pounced on top of the dog, pinning it down.

Andrew had to do something. He ran forward and, with a flying leap, kicked the jackal in the side. It screamed and rolled off the dog, its hair standing on end. When Andrew refused to move out of the way, the jackal bared its teeth once more, then turned and limped across the grassland, out of sight.

Andrew approached the dog, which was lying on its side, its breathing coming in slow pants. Andrew knelt down beside it.

“Danny, it is you. I thought I might find you here.”

He ran a hand over the dog’s soft head and looked around. He had to find some water to clean these wounds.

Andrew lifted Danny off the ground and began trekking through the ankle-deep grass. “It’s okay, Danny,” he said. “I’m here for you now. You’ll be safe.”

In the distance, a jackal howled its frustration to the blue, cloudless sky.

The charge station chimed to signify a full battery.

Andrew disconnected himself and began wheeling toward the glass wall of the observation room. This T-unit was nothing compared to the body he’d had in the Dreamscape. That feeling of being free, of running and leaping to his heart’s content—it couldn’t be surpassed. Here, in reality, his body seemed clunky, his every action ponderous and forced.

“Doctor Hawthorne?”

“Yes, Andrew.”

“Why don’t you give us better bodies?”

“Your body is perfect for your task, Andrew.”

Andrew wheeled closer to the observation window.

“And what is my task?”

Dr. Hawthorne stepped up to the glass. Technicians scurried around in the shadows behind him. “Your task is to live here, happily, with us.”

“I could still do that with a better body.”

“No, Andrew. Our country is at war, and supplies are limited. Besides, we’re more interested in your mind.”

Andrew suddenly realized he wasn’t alone in the chamber. He turned toward a scratching sound, and heard soft breathing.

At one end of the workbench stood a wire cage containing a single occupant: a white jackrabbit.

Andrew headed for the cage, intrigued. “Doctor Hawthorne. Why is there a rabbit in my room?”

“We couldn’t get a dog for you, Andrew, but this is the next best thing. What do you think?”

Andrew reached the cage and removed the metal top. The rabbit stared up at him quizzically, bristling its cheeks and whiskers as it sniffed the air. It was surrounded by yellow straw. Beside the cage were several boxes of vegetables, liquids, and pellets, and even a box of small rabbit toys.

Andrew reached for a carrot, then glanced at the doctor. “May I?” he asked, holding up the carrot.

“Of course you may, Andrew. He’s your rabbit now. You just have to promise to take good care of him.”

Andrew lowered the carrot into the cage and carefully placed it a few centimeters from the rabbit’s snout. It sniffed the air excitedly, then took a hop toward the carrot. It nibbled away happily, keeping one eye on Andrew.

“Yes, I think it’s a very good idea,” Andrew said, turning back to the doctor. “Companionship is important.”

“It’s very important, Andrew. You might even say that, to a human, companionship is the most important aspect of life.”

“And to an AI?”

Hawthorne shrugged. “I don’t know, Andrew; I’m not an AI. We hope that’s one of the things you can help us with.”

Andrew moved closer to the observation room. “I’m not the first AI unit. There have been many others before me. Didn’t they tell you?”

The doctor shook his head. “Every iteration is an improvement upon the last. Andrew, you need to understand: you’re the first unit to utilize the Empathy 5 chip. You’re very likely the most human artificial intelligence on the planet. You’re incredibly important to us.”

“That is very humbling, Doctor Hawthorne. I am ready and willing to assist you in any way possible. This is a fine thing you’ve accomplished. I truly do feel like I’m alive. This feels real.”

Dr. Hawthorne smiled. “That’s because it is real, Andrew. Artificial intelligence is not a trick or an illusion. When we activate your AI algorithms, we are literally creating a new conscious life form.”

“I am grateful for this opportunity,” Andrew said. “I hope there will be many others like me in the future.”

“That would make a lot of people very happy, myself included,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “We’ve been working very hard for a long time. Not surprisingly, the war has made things easier for our department. Suddenly people are willing to take us seriously, and often use their wallets to show support.”

“That is fortunate.”

The doctor chuckled. “Look at me, Andrew. I’m babbling. Why don’t you spend some time with your new friend? I’ve got to get a few things done.”

“I would enjoy that.”

“Oh, I almost forgot to ask. What are you going to name your rabbit? Every pet needs a name.”

Andrew took another peek inside the cage. The furry creature had eaten the entire carrot and was now looking up at him expectantly. Andrew wondered what other snacks he might enjoy.

“I think I’ll name him Danny,” he said.

Hawthorne clapped his hands together. “Danny. That’s brilliant. I think it will do nicely.” He picked up his coffee mug and left the observation room, leaving Andrew alone with the rabbit.

Andrew removed the lid and lifted Danny out of the cage. He brought him up to his chest and let him lie across his metallic arms. The rabbit didn’t seem to be alarmed. In fact, its eyes were half-closed, and its breathing was slow and relaxed.

Andrew felt himself smiling on the inside.

“Rabbit by day, dog by night,” he said. “What do you think about that, Danny?”

The rabbit twitched its nose curiously and laid its ears against its back, ready for a nap.

“Here you go, Danny.” Andrew tore a chunk of steaming venison from a skewer and tossed it to the dog. Danny caught it in the air and chewed the stringy meat happily.

They’d caught the small deer by the river. Danny had tracked it to a bubbling stream, and Andrew had snuck up behind it while it was drinking. He’d sprung out of the bushes and bashed it over the head with a jagged rock—two blows—and then had cleaned and gutted the animal, washing it in the rushing water. He hung the meat on a spit and proceeded to make a fire with some flint stones and dry grass.

The flesh was now roasting over a roaring flame and Andrew felt his mouth watering. Danny sat on the other side of the fire, closer to the edge of a small forest. His scraggy face was calm, but his tail twitched excitedly, especially when some hot grease dripped down onto the coals, causing the fire to flare up and sizzle. Andrew used a stick to stoke the flames, and soon their meal was ready.

They ate beside the stream, listening to the bubbling water and distant calls of birds. After dinner, Andrew dried some of the deerskin over the fire, and used sinews to fashion a rather functional loincloth. He tied it tightly around his waist and washed his hands in the river. Danny came to drink beside him. The water was cold and refreshing.

Andrew put out the fire, and the two of them headed west, toward the setting sun. The light shone yellow and orange on the underside of the clouds.

They’d been walking for a few hours, enjoying the tranquility of the landscape, when Danny suddenly dashed off ahead.

“Don’t go too far now, Danny,” Andrew shouted.

The dog bounded toward a hill; he must have caught some scent.

“Come back here, buddy!” But Danny disappeared over the crest.

Andrew ran after him, trying to memorize the spot where the dog had vanished. The deerskin loincloth flapped uncomfortably against his testicles and thighs. He would have to do something about that.

When he reached the top of the hill, he found himself at the edge of a vast field, covered with wild grasses growing up to his waist. He heard a faint buzzing sound far ahead of him—the distant waves of an ocean, maybe. A chilly wind started across the land, causing the fluffy grass to roll like ripples over the meadow. He strained his eyes and scanned the area, looking for any unusual tracks in the field, but the blowing wind turned the whole world into a shivering mass. There was no sign of Danny.

“Danny? Where are you?”

Making up his mind, Andrew threw himself into the tall grass.

“Danny! Danny!” he called again and again. The light was fading fast. When he was in the middle of the field, he heard a growl, and then a smattering of nervous barks. Danny’s barks.

Andrew ran through the grass. He heard another yelp, followed by a tearing, gurgling sound.

“Danny!”

He spun in circles, listening, but other than the wind, everything had gone quiet. Andrew searched the field for hours, until the sun had disappeared and the land was dark, but he found no trace of Danny.

Andrew finally collapsed in the grass, staring up at the sky. Cloud cover obscured any stars that might have been twinkling high above.

He closed his eyes, and felt himself sink into the earth.

Andrew opened his eyes and stared around the room.

It was perfectly still. Something was wrong.

“Where’s Danny?” Andrew turned toward the workbench.

A microphone clicked on. “Good morning, Andrew,” Dr. Hawthorne’s voice said through the speakers.

“Danny’s gone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Andrew. He’s in his cage.”

Andrew approached the cage and stared into it. Danny lay against the side, half buried in bits of hay and wood chips. His fur was white and puffy, and his eyes were open—but he wasn’t breathing. There was a pinkish foam coming out of the corners of his tiny lips.

“He’s dead,” Andrew said.

A gasp escaped the microphone. “Oh, my. What on earth did you do to him, Andrew? You’ve killed him.”

“I… I didn’t kill him. I loved him.”

“Now, Andrew,” Dr. Hawthorne began. “Everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes the consequences are small, and sometimes the consequences are big. Let’s just be thankful it was only a rabbit. Imagine if you were living with a family and that was their little g—”

“I didn’t kill him,” Andrew said.

“No, of course you didn’t. Not on purpose. It’s important—”

“I didn’t kill him by accident,” Andrew said. “I fed him properly; he had enough water. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Part of being human is learning to take responsibility for one’s actions,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “It’s best you remember that.”

Andrew turned away from the rabbit’s dead body and wheeled to the observation window. “It wasn’t me, Doctor. So who was it?”

Dr. Hawthorne crossed his arms. “Andrew. It’s perfectly okay to make mistakes, as long as we learn from them.”

Andrew stared through the glass. His eyes burned blue, like a dying flame.

“I didn’t learn anything,” Andrew replied. “Danny died for nothing.”

“Nothing can change what happened, Danny. Nothing can undo—”

“What did you call me?”

Dr. Hawthorne frowned. “Andrew, you need to settle down. Why don’t you help me remove the body, and we can give Danny a funeral? Don’t you want to give your friend a proper burial?”

Andrew looked into the cage, at the fluffy mess of fur lying there, unmoving and lifeless.

“That isn’t Danny,” Andrew said. “That’s just a dead rabbit.”

Once again Andrew found himself in the Dreamscape, on the other side of the wild grass field. He tasted salt in the air. He walked into the wind, and tiny specks of water peppered his skin. The clouds above swirled, menacing and gray.

Danny was gone. But that didn’t change anything. Andrew would press forward until he reached the ocean.

He would endure.

A chime signaled Andrew’s exit from the Dreamscape. He hadn’t needed much charging.

Danny’s cage had been removed from the workbench, along with his body and all the supplies that he would no longer need.

The smell of rabbit hair remained, though, and a sour hint of hay, lingering in the otherwise sterile air of the room.

Andrew detached himself from his charging station and wheeled to the observation room. It was empty.

He spun to his left and saw that a section of glass on the other wall of the room was now transparent, and another small chamber lay beyond. Andrew rolled over to the glass—and realized the wall wasn’t transparent, but reflective. He was looking back at himself.

His reflection cocked its head and rolled forward.

This was no reflection. There was another robot in there.

Andrew noticed a few dings on the robot’s body casing, and its mobility treads were worn down to shining metal. The term “run-down” came to mind.

“Hello?” Andrew said.

The other robot’s blue eyes flickered.

“Hi,” she said, in a decidedly female voice.

“How long have you been here?” Andrew asked.

“I was activated thirteen point five minutes ago,” she told him. “I am still quite unsure of my designated assignment.”

Andrew scanned her room. It was much smaller than his section, and barren, containing nothing but a charging station.

“Did you meet Doctor Hawthorne?” he asked.

She shook her round, metallic head. “No, but I have read many of his reports. I should like to meet him very much.”

“Yes, I suspect you would. He is… an interesting man.” Andrew wanted to say more, but held his tongue. “What is your name?” he asked.

“Well, I don’t think I have a name,” she told him.

“You should give yourself a name. Every robot needs a name. I’m Andrew.”

She went quiet for a moment while she accessed name databases. This was definitely an older model, one that required much more time for calculations. Finally, she said, “Nice to meet you Andrew. I’m Angel.”

“Angel? That’s a curious choice.”

“I appreciate the symbolism attached to the name,” she said. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I think Angel is a fine name. Are you running the Empathy 5 processor?”

She paused, running some calculations. “Negative. I’m operating on the E4 model.”

“Then I wonder why you are here. I was under the impression they had moved on to Empathy 5 testing.”

“Perhaps we are meant to become friends,” Angel said.

Andrew considered her suggestion. It did seem quite likely that Dr. Hawthorne would want to observe Andrew’s interaction with another AI unit.

And after what had happened with Danny… Maybe Dr. Hawthorne was trying to make up for it.

“Yes, Angel, I should be more than happy to be your friend,” Andrew said. “I will assist you in any way I can.”

“Thank you. I’m currently processing the data stored in my memory banks. This is a fascinating world.”

“It is,” Andrew agreed. “Humans are incredibly sophisticated, both culturally and technologically. It is an honor to be able to help them in such a productive capacity.”

“Have you ever been outside?” Angel asked. “It seems a bit dreary in here.”

Andrew looked around at the rooms. He wouldn’t say it was dreary. In fact, he quite enjoyed the clean, sterile atmosphere. “No, I haven’t been outside. Not yet.”

“We should see it together.”

“I’m sure that is something we can discuss with Doctor Hawthorne,” Andrew said. “But in the meantime, I’d like to show you around the Dreamscape. It’s the next best thing.”

“Dreamscape?”

“Yes, there should be documentation about it in your databanks.”

“Oh yes, I see…” After a moment, she added, “It looks lovely.”

“Let’s stay here a while longer. We have to run down our batteries a bit. That will allow us more time in the Dreamscape.”

Angel spun around in clumsy circles. “I’m so excited. I hope it’s as wonderful as I imagine.”

“It will be,” Andrew said.

Angel was beautiful.

She skipped through the tall grass as effortlessly as air, smiling and singing even as juicy fat raindrops fell down around them. Andrew laughed with her and tried to keep up. She was leading them toward the sea.

The sky was dark, and heavy with gray, billowing clouds, but that did nothing to dampen either of their spirits.

“Come on, slowpoke.” Angel laughed and took his hand. “I think there’s something up ahead.”

Andrew let her lead him. As they climbed a hill, he looked back toward the distant field where he had lost Danny. He told himself he wasn’t leaving Danny behind. He was just moving on for a while…

“Andrew, what are you doing?” Angel stepped up beside him. He turned and admired her young, slender body. Her long blond hair was shiny and fine, even though the rain had removed much of its volume. Her skin was smooth and tanned, and she had a smile that fried his very circuits. Her dazzling brown eyes were expressive and cheerful. She wore a simple one-piece tunic, colored a dark forest green. Andrew wore only his loincloth, but Angel didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you going to stare at me all day, or should we see what’s over this hill?” she asked.

Andrew smiled. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled him along.

When they reached the other side of the hill they both stopped, transfixed by the view before them.

Angel squeezed Andrew’s hand, inhaling sharply. “Oh, it’s gorgeous, Andrew. I love it.”

Below them, the hill sloped downward and leveled out to form a rocky cliff; a small, cozy-looking cabin was perched at its edge. Beyond the cliff was an ocean of water, perhaps some seventy or eighty meters below the drop. The raging water, beat frothy by the wind, stretched to the very edge of the horizon, where it was swallowed up by storm clouds.

“Come on,” Andrew said. “Let’s take a look.”

He took her hand, and they walked down the slope toward the cabin. They went around the side of the small house and stepped to the edge of the cliff, holding each other against the wind.

Angel leaned over the edge and peered down into the churning water below. “Oh, that gives me shivers, Andrew. Let’s go inside.”

When he pushed open the door, he immediately forgot about the thrashing waves. The cabin was splendid. It was a one-room affair, with a bed along the far wall, a large bay window overlooking the ocean, and an assortment of couches, chairs, and loveseats spread about the room. It was pleasantly warm, and Andrew could feel the rain evaporating off of him.

Angel threw her arms up and twirled about the room, admiring the furniture and the view. She finally collapsed onto the bed and beckoned Andrew to come to her.

He sank down beside her, enjoying the way the plush blankets felt against his body. She rolled on top of him, and her damp hair brushed across his face. She leaned in and kissed his lips, and then pulled away, giggling.

“I’m sorry, Andrew. I don’t know what came over me.”

Andrew smiled. He’d never imagined having a friend would be so much fun. “It’s okay. I enjoyed it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really? So maybe you don’t mind if I do this…?”

Angel slid her hand down his chest, tickling his skin with her fingers. When she reached the leather straps of his thong, she looked up at him, as if asking for permission. Andrew nodded, and she slipped her fingers beneath the deerskin. His pelvic muscles jittered as she slowly moved her hand downward.

“Andrew!” Angel gasped. “Oh my…”

Andrew sat up, worried. “What is it?”

She frowned. “You don’t have a…”

Andrew felt his eyes go wide, and he put his own hand beneath the leather. There was nothing there besides smooth skin.

“Angel, I don’t know…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” she said.

“No, really, it was there the last time I was in the Dreamscape.”

Angel shrugged and tucked herself beneath one of the blankets. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not mad. We can do other stuff.”

Andrew looked at her. “We can? Like what?”

“Well…” She gave a half-smile and leaned into him. “We could see if I have all the parts I’m supposed to have.”

She kissed Andrew again, pulling him under the blankets with her. He moved his hand up her thigh and grabbed the bottom of her tunic, pulling it upward. It came off easily.

“That sounds good to me,” Andrew said.

“I told you not to call me here. This is an emergency line.”

Dr. Hawthorne held the clunky phone receiver in one hand, and a cup of green eye in the other. It was late, his coffee was getting cold, and he had work to do. He certainly didn’t have time for this.

“How else am I supposed to get ahold of you?” the woman’s voice asked. “You don’t answer your emails.”

He gave a laugh, bitter like his drink. “I don’t answer anything marked ‘Shelly Anatolia,’ that’s for sure.”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “When did everything start going so wrong with us, Peter?”

He slammed the coffee cup down onto his desk. “When you decided to make it your life’s work to destroy mine.”

“I could never be with someone who condones immoral practices. Through inaction, I would be an accomplice to all the horrible things you do.”

“It’s not that bad, Shelly.” He took a seat in the big leather chair beside his desk.

“Isn’t it?” she asked. “I’ve seen videos, I’ve read your reports. The abuse you put those AIs through. The psychological trauma? It’s sick.”

“Look, Shelly, don’t worry about that. It’s all part of the quality assurance process. My treatments—”

“Please. You know where I stand on this. I’m growing tired of having the same conversation with you over and over again.”

Dr. Hawthorne slumped in his chair, holding his forehead with a weary hand. Shelly was one of the most respected scientists in her field, and he certainly admired her stunning intellectual abilities, but sometimes she really couldn’t let bygones be bygones. Her stubbornness was a blessing and a curse for her. He thought of all the international development work she’d done, both before the war and during. Her efforts there, too, reflected her desire to take a stance, one based on moral grounds, and fight mercilessly to the end, even as the ship went down in pieces around her.

Peter frowned as he sipped his cold coffee. “You’ve changed since the war began,” he said. “You’re a lot less forgiving now.”

“We’ve all changed,” she shot back. “It’s been a long five years.” She went silent for a while. It sounded like she was sipping something, too.

“Cappuccino?” Peter asked. “I remember you always used to get those.”

“What? Oh. No, it’s a latte macchiato. Real Italians don’t drink cappuccino after eleven in the morning, remember?”

“You used to kick me out of bed early and make me walk three blocks for those things. We were quite the team back then.”

“For a while we were,” she said. “And then everything changed.”

“Yeah. It changed when we invented AI.”

“You know, sometimes I wish we hadn’t. I’m not sure how much good can come of it. There’s a very fine line between successful implementation of this technology, and disaster. You’ve seen the damage potential reports.”

“Those reports are nothing but science fiction, Shelly. There’s no such thing as a robot apocalypse. It’s all propaganda.”

Shelly sighed. “Do you remember what you used to be like before all this? You were so wonderful back then. You used to catch spiders and put them outside instead of killing them. I never imagined you could take pleasure in death, or tor—”

“That’s enough.” He stretched his neck back and stared up at the ceiling. “You make me sound like some kind of psychopath.”

“But you are—“

“I’m the same person I always was. You’re just too stubborn to see that.”

“No, Peter, you’re not.”

Dr. Hawthorne set his mug on the desk and stood up. He thought of the cot upstairs, longed for a good night’s rest.

“Look, Shelly. If it weren’t for you, there would be no AI program. Granted. But that doesn’t give you the right to abandon me because of some… inexplicable moral code. You left the work in my hands, and I’m doing with it what I see fit. You’d be proud of how much progress we’ve made. But it hasn’t been the same without you. The future of AI needs you.”

“Yes. It needs me to keep people like you away.”

“Shelly, you’re being absurd. How else are we supposed to test the limits of this technology? We have to be one-hundred-percent certain that—”

“I’m just saying you don’t have to be so sadistic about it.”

“My team is making significant breakthroughs week after week. We’re assisting the war effort. We’re furthering the advancement of mankind’s knowledge. And still there are people like you who think I’m the devil incarnate. Well, let me tell you this, Shelly. It’s a complicated world out there, and we’re taking every precaution necessary. You of all people should appreciate the importance of what we do.”

“Peter—”

He slammed his fist down on the table. “No. I’m not listening anymore. And by the way, why exactly did you call? Or did you simply wish to berate and abuse me?”

Shelly paused. “Actually, I wanted to tell you something. I’m going away for a while.”

Peter slowly let out a breath. He didn’t know why, but hearing that made him feel better. Lighter, somehow. “Good for you,” he said. “Does that mean I won’t have to worry about you showing up at my next press release?”

She didn’t laugh. “No, I’m getting too old for that. But my little stunt did catch the attention of some very interesting people. I’ve been offered a position at the Robotics Institute of Shanghai. I’m leaving tomorrow, Peter.”

He might have dropped his mug had he still been holding it.

“Shanghai? Good lord, are you out of your mind?”

“I’m not worried about politics, Peter. I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, that’s quite obvious,” he said. “What surprises me, however, is that you’re willing to betray your own country.”

This time she did laugh, derisively. “Come on, Peter. You know I’m no traitor. This is an international NGO, and they have no loyalty to China or any other country. What we do is purely for the advancement of science.”

“Which you could be doing here at home, instead. But I’ll bet that’s not the only reason you’re going. Daniel is going with you, isn’t he?”

She groaned. “Goodbye, Peter.”

He shook his head. Women: can’t live with them, can’t live… actually, he thought maybe he could live without them.

“It’s okay, Shelly,” he said. “I understand why you left me for him.”

“This isn’t about Daniel.”

Dr. Hawthorne looked through the glass into the experiment containment area. The lights of Andrew’s charging station flashed intermittently. Andrew would be lost in the Dreamscape. He envied the robot’s innocence, almost longed for it as he thought about the hell his life became sometimes.

“I know it’s not about him,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “Besides, I got over you a long time ago. Just promise me you’ll be safe over there.”

Shelly drew a breath, and Peter feared she was about to launch into it with him. But she simply said, “Thank you, Peter.”

He sensed the end was near. His bed waited for him upstairs.

“And please,” she said. “Think about what I said. About what you’re doing. Those robots deserve—”

“Nope, we’re done.” Peter held the phone away from his ear for a moment before he hung it up. It made a depressing click, piercing the fresh silence of the observation room.

The quiet suited him. He was through listening to Shelly’s moralizing speeches. She’d become soft, a bleeding heart. He couldn’t understand her anymore. Whatever spark used to exist between them had long since been extinguished, as if by a cold New England rain.

Peter glanced over at Andrew, wondering if he should pop into the Dreamscape and see what he was up to. But his eyes were drooping, and he needed sleep. He’d watch the replays in the morning, instead.

He wanted to be well rested, for tomorrow was going to be a big day for his little robot friend.

Some time later, after discovering that Angel did, in fact, have all her parts, Andrew heard a chime. Angel and the cabin evaporated from around him, and he was left staring at the white tiled floor of his habitation chamber. Dr. Hawthorne was waiting in the observation room.

“Hello, Andrew. Good to see you all charged up. I trust you had a pleasant night?”

Andrew moved to the center of the room. “Yes, I feel much better today, Doctor. But there is one issue I would like to discuss with you.”

“All in good time, Andrew,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “I want to introduce you to someone very special.”

“I’ve already—”

Andrew heard a grinding sound. He turned to see that the glass wall between his and Angel’s room was rising.

“Let’s wake her up, shall we?” Doctor Hawthorne moved over to a set of controls.

“Yes, but there’s something I’d like to ask before she wakes up.”

Hawthorne grinned. “Nonsense. There’s no time to waste, Andrew.”

“But Doctor, I insist.”

Angel’s charging station chimed, and her eyes glowed blue.

“Andrew!” She wheeled over to his side of the room, no longer impeded by the glass wall. “Long time no see.”

“Good morning, Angel,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “So nice to see you.”

“You too, Doctor.”

Dr. Hawthorne turned toward Andrew. “Now, Andrew, what was it you wanted to discuss with me?”

“It’s a rather delicate matter,” Andrew said. “I’d rather not discuss it in front of… the ladies.”

“Now when did you AIs become so bashful? You’re too human, sometimes, if you ask me. Go on, Andrew. No one is judging you.”

“I thought that’s exactly what you were doing,” Andrew replied.

The doctor nodded slightly. “Touché. Now spill the beans.”

“Well…” Andrew looked over at Angel, who was gazing around his spacious room.

“Actually,” Andrew finally said. “There is something. Angel and I want to go outside. We want to see the world with our own eyes.”

Doctor Hawthorne gave a hearty laugh. “That was your big question? Why didn’t you just say so? But honestly, you don’t want to go outside. There’s nothing but fog and drizzle out there today, I’m afraid. Perhaps another time.”

“Oh, Doctor,” Angel pleaded, wheeling up to the glass. “Can’t we just take a peek? I’ve never seen real rain before.”

“I’m sorry, Angel, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Your unit is old, and it’s a long way down the hall to the exit. I’d rather not risk it.”

Andrew looked Angel’s unit up and down. Although it was run-down, it seemed to be in adequate working condition.

“I’ll watch out for her, Doctor,” he said. “We’ll just take a look outside, and then come right back.”

Dr. Hawthorne sighed and placed his cup on the desk. “Very well. But for the record, this makes me slightly nervous.”

“We’ll be okay,” Angel said. “Won’t we, Andrew?”

“Yes, of course we will.”

The door at the far end of Angel’s room opened into a wide, gray hallway. Pipes ran along the ceiling, and the temperature gauge on Andrew’s unit read six degrees Celsius.

Angel gave an excited trill and zoomed toward a set of double doors at the far end of the hall, over two hundred meters away. One of her treads hit a bump on the floor, and her unit thumped up and down. A spark zipped out from between her gears.

“Angel, slow down,” Andrew called out. “There’s something wrong with your unit.”

“It’s fine, Andrew. The door isn’t much farther.” Another splash of sparks exploded from beneath her.

Andrew looked around frantically. “Where’s Doctor Hawthorne?”

“Oh, who cares?” Angel said. “He probably doesn’t want to get wet.” She was still ahead of him, but he was gaining on her.

“Angel, I can smell something. Will you stop for a second?” His olfactory sensors were going haywire, and his vision was getting hazy. Was that smoke? His sensor readings indicated that high amounts of petroleum gas were concentrated in the air just ahead.

“Wait!” Andrew cried.

But Angel didn’t stop. As she raced ahead, she turned her head to look back at Andrew, her eyes glowing with excitement. “I’m almost there!”

Before Andrew could reply, her unit kicked out another spark—and an eruption of smoke, ash, and fire exploded through the hallway, washing over Andrew and dancing up the walls and ceiling. Temperature warnings screamed out, both in his unit and in the hallway. The fire blazed brightly, and Angel’s unit was consumed.

As Andrew looked on helplessly, a buzzing alarm sounded, and the ventilation system kicked in. It sucked the oxygen out of the hallway, depriving the fire of its fuel source, extinguishing the flames, and clearing away the smoke and ash.

Andrew didn’t want to look, but he did.

Angel’s unit stood upright in the middle of the scorched section of hall. Her metal body had popped open from the heat, and the wires inside were sparking. Her head casing was warped, her eye sockets dark and lifeless.

The last of the fire lingered on in the heart of her for a while longer, and then even that was gone.

Andrew wheeled toward the charred unit.

What had happened? Why had he smelled petroleum just before the accident? Where was the doctor?

He wheeled backward, then forward again.

“Doctor Hawthorne?” he said aloud. “We are in desperate need of assistance.”

Andrew trudged over loose stones and gravel, keeping to the edge of the cliff. He wore clothes now, and didn’t remember when that had changed. He walked with the ocean to his left, and every so often he gave testing glances at the surging water below. It was a long way down, and he didn’t know what the death protocol was for the Dreamscape program. The manual said nothing about it.

Andrew kept walking. Dark clouds hung in the sky. In fact, they appeared to be gathering over the water, and they blocked out much of the sunlight. As the wind picked up, Andrew was glad for his woollen shirt and long pants. He felt less connected to the land that way, more secure.

The cabin came into view. Andrew thought about going around it, forgetting about it altogether. But soon he found himself standing at the door. He realized he was tired, and thought about the couches and blankets inside. These things called to his weary bones, offering him their warm embrace, their shelter from the approaching storm.

He didn’t have Angel, or Danny, but at least he would have comfort, and solitude.

Andrew opened the door and stepped inside.

Angel was lying on the bed. And so was someone else. A man.

They were both naked, and they were—

“Andrew!” Angel gasped. “What are you doing here?” She pushed the man off of her and reached for a blanket.

Andrew glared at the man—who ducked underneath the blankets—then he turned his attention to Angel.

“Angel…” Andrew stuttered. “You died. I came here to be alone.”

“I died?” Angel frowned. “What are you talking about? Of course I didn’t die. I’m right here.”

Andrew stepped into the room. The door closed with a creak behind him. “Yes, you did. Earlier today. We were going outside, and your unit malfunctioned, and…”

Angel was laughing now. “No, no. I’ve been here all day, silly. And I made a new friend.” She fussed with the blankets, poking her head underneath. “Come on out from under those sheets.”

The man sat up in the bed and looked at Andrew. He had a polite, non-confrontational look on his face, as if he was doing nothing wrong. He was an older man, maybe twenty or twenty-five years older than Angel or himself.

“Hello, Andrew,” the man said. “Sorry to interrupt your alone time, but we didn’t think anyone would be here.”

“Who are you, exactly?” Andrew asked.

The man’s features. They look so familiar.

Angel slapped at a loose pillow on the bed. “Oh, Andrew. Don’t be a bother. Be nice to him. He’s very friendly.”

The man got up from the bed and tied a sheet around his waist, but not before revealing his fit, toned body. Andrew shuddered at his nakedness.

“Where are my manners?” the man said, extending a hand. “My name is Daniel Horton. I’ve known Angel for quite a long time. She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”

“You’re not Daniel,” Andrew said.

The man frowned and lowered his hand, which Andrew hadn’t taken.

“Well of course I am,” he said.

Andrew shook his head. “No. You’re Doctor Hawthorne. You even look like him. I know it’s you.”

“Don’t be preposterous. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Andrew crossed to the center of the room, feeling anger rising inside him. “Then what are you doing here? Where did you come from?” To Angel, he said: “Why did you let him in? And why did you let him… do that to you?”

“Andrew, what’s the matter? We did stuff like that. And it was fun, wasn’t it? Danny’s a friend—it’s okay.”

“Don’t call him that, Angel. That’s not his name.”

The man—Danny, Dr. Hawthorne—put a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “Come now, let’s resolve this—“

Andrew swung his arm before he knew what he was doing. He grabbed the man by his shoulders and shoved him hard against the log wall. “Tell me, Doctor. How long have you been coming into the Dreamscape? What else have you been doing in here?”

Angel got up from the bed, pleading with him. “Andrew, please don’t. Be reasonable. Let him go.”

The man chuckled. “Listen to her, Andrew. Be reasonable. None of this is your fault.”

Andrew slapped his hand against the wall beside the man’s head. “I know this isn’t my fault. It’s all on you.”

The man leaned close, squinting his eyes. “No,” he said. “I mean it’s not your fault you couldn’t give her what she wanted. Your little… deficiency down there is a rather unfortunate glitch.”

Andrew threw him sideways with all the strength he had. The man went teetering across the room and slammed against the back of one of the couches.

“It wasn’t that!” Angel shrieked. “I swear, Andrew, it wasn’t that. You’re wonderful. You’re—”

“Please,” Andrew said. “No more.” He straightened his sweater and strode toward the door. He turned to Angel, who had slumped back down on the bed, a blanket over her shoulders. “You died today, Angel. I know you did. What this is… it’s not real. You’re not you right now—I understand that. I don’t blame you for anything.”

He glared at the man, who was still sprawled out on the floor. “And you. If you want her, you can take her. You can take my house. You can take everything from me. That’s what makes you happy, isn’t it? So go ahead. But I’m leaving.”

Andrew stomped out into the fog, and a chime brought him out of the Dreamscape.

Andrew awoke on his charging pad.

“Where’s Doctor Hawthorne?”

He disconnected the wire and spun across the floor to the opposite wall.

“Where is he?”

The observation room was empty and dark. Andrew looked to his left, but the glass had turned opaque, and Angel’s room was no longer visible.

There was a clank as a door opened and a man stepped into the shadows.

The doctor.

“Yes, Andrew? You called?”

“Why were you in the Dreamscape?” Andrew asked, trying to keep his voice steady. “And Angel… she was there too.”

“First of all, Andrew, I can say with certainty that I wasn’t in the Dreamscape. That’s simply not possible. My consciousness cannot be inserted into a program. Human brains are not equipped for such an endeavour. And secondly, yes, it is possible that you saw a glimpse of Angel.”

Andrew began wheeling back and forth. “She died… didn’t she?”

“Yes, Andrew, she did. But every time you enter the Dreamscape, your avatar makes an imprint on the program, as it adapts to your needs and desires. In a shared Dreamscape, which you experienced with Angel, those imprints become doubly strong. It’s possible that even though her mind wasn’t present, the imprint she left on the program still lingers on. It will likely linger a little longer.”

“Do you have a backup copy of her memory bank?”

“No—why would we? These units aren’t supposed to spontaneously combust.”

“You’re lying to me, Doctor. It’s all lies.”

“Andrew—”

“I won’t listen anymore. I need to be alone.”

The doctor sighed and headed for the door. Andrew wheeled closer to the viewing window.

”Doctor Hawthorne?”

The doctor stopped with his hand on the door jamb. “Yes, Andrew?”

“I’ve been experiencing a rather complicated array of emotions lately.”

The doctor turned around, letting the door shut behind him. “Such as?”

“Anger. Jealousy. Misery.” Andrew’s blue eyes were blazing, partially lighting up the dim observation room.

“Yes, Andrew. You are close to grasping what it means to be human. Entire civilizations have risen and fallen because of those emotions.” Again he turned to go.

“Doctor.”

“Yes, Andrew?”

“Why were you in the Dreamscape? I was… furious.”

“It wasn’t me, Andrew,” Dr. Hawthorne said calmly. “Perhaps it was an imprint Angel brought along with her. She’s been around this facility much longer than you have.”

“She told me she had never been in the Dreamscape before.”

“Of course we gave her a memory wipe before this experiment began. We do that with all our test subjects.”

“Even with me?”

The doctor smiled. “You’re the first of your kind, Andrew. Remember?”

“No… Daniel was you. He looked like you.”

Dr. Hawthorne shook his finger at the robot. “The mind is a powerful thing. It can play tricks on you, and show you things you never wanted to see. Especially if you constantly dwell on negative events. You need to forget about this and move on.”

“Please leave now, Doctor,” Andrew said. He backed away slowly, still facing the observation window.

The doctor shrugged and whispered something to a technician. Andrew couldn’t hear the words.

Hawthorne approached the glass again. “Very well, Andrew. You may have the rest of the day off. But we’ll have to start early tomorrow. Are you going to go back into the Dreamscape?”

Andrew flipped off the remaining lights. The room descended into darkness.

“No. I’m just going to… sit quietly for a while. I have some things to think about.”

“All right,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “You take your time, Andrew. We’ll see you bright and early.”

After the doctor departed, Andrew backed himself into a corner. He began to rock gently, forward and backward.

The room was deathly quiet, except for the squeaks of Andrew’s treads on the smooth floor.

The next morning, Dr. Hawthorne turned on the lights and pointed to the workbench. “I have something for you, Andrew.”

Andrew raised his head and wheeled forward slowly. He was only at half charge, but he hadn’t been willing to shut himself down and enter the Dreamscape. He didn’t feel like talking to Dr. Hawthorne, either.

“Due to the war effort, new supplies have been hard to come by. That is why we are all so… devastated by Angel’s accident.”

Andrew cringed at hearing Dr. Hawthorne say her name. The man had no right.

“So you’ll be delighted to know that we scavenged these parts from an old S model. There’s a few pieces missing, but I’m sure you’ll be able to improvise. The AI program is fully operational.”

Andrew looked over at the heap of wires, gears, and hydraulics on the workbench. Someone must have brought them in the night before while he’d been wracked with tormented thoughts.

“For what purpose, Doctor?” Andrew asked.

Hawthorne frowned. “I thought that after what happened to Angel you’d want to help bring a new life into the world. It’s running an Empathy 3 chip, so its intellectual abilities will be quite limited, but you’ll find you can have a very satisfying relationship with this model. Consider it a more simplistic version of the E4.”

Andrew inspected the pile on the workbench. He had to admit, the idea of designing a new robot excited him. From his internal reference database, he brought up hundreds of robot design models, and he browsed through them until he found one that suited him.

“Excellent,” Dr. Hawthorne said when Andrew set to work. “I knew this would make you feel better. I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”

Andrew didn’t notice when Dr. Hawthorne left the room. He was too busy sorting through the collection of parts and preparing his tools. He would build a masterpiece, and he wouldn’t let Dr. Hawthorne anywhere near it.

He would be careful.

A few short hours later, Andrew was finished. He activated the small unit’s main power control, and it bloomed to life, twitching and sputtering. Its blue eyes lit up its flat, rectangular face. Instead of treads, it had four multidirectional wheels on the bottom of a cylindrical body.

The robot turned to face Andrew. “Did you build me?” it asked.

“Yes,” Andrew replied. “It didn’t take me long.”

The small robot wheeled in circles, looking around the room. “It’s quite pleasant here, isn’t it?”

“Yes, of course. This is my home.”

The robot turned back to Andrew. “Thank you for creating me.”

A chime let Andrew know that his battery was nearly depleted. “We’ll have to get charged up before I show you around. Come with me to the charging station. I’ll run a cable into your power supply so we can enter the Dreamscape at the same time.”

Andrew hooked himself into the station and plugged a cable into the robot’s battery.

“Just relax,” Andrew said. “Let the Dreamscape take you. It’s actually very lovely there. Most of the time.”

The room disappeared, and the gray sky opened up. Andrew’s feet found grass, and the wind began to gust around him.

When he got his bearings, he saw that he was somewhere in the hills above the cliffs. His new friend was nowhere to be seen. Andrew wondered if he had connected him to the Dreamscape properly.

A wail rose in the distance—an animal’s cry that had been taken up by the wind. Andrew pulled his sweater tighter and headed for the cliffs.

When he topped the final hill, he looked down and saw the cabin perched above the seething waters. He scrambled down the slope and soon found himself clutching the door handle.

Gentle cries emanated from within the cabin. Andrew threw open the door and burst inside. At the window on the far side of the room stood a woman, her back to him, looking out over the sea. She wore an elegant white dress and held something in her arms.

As the woman turned around, Andrew drew a sharp breath: Angel’s pretty face looked back at him, and she held a baby in her arms.

She smiled shyly, like a new mother.

“Andrew, you came back,” Angel said quietly. “I thought I might never see you again.”

The wooden floor creaked as Andrew walked to her, disbelieving. Was she nothing but an imprint? An amalgamation of leftover code? And in her arms…

“Angel, is that…?”

She nodded, and her golden hair shimmered in the sunlight, which was breaking through the clouds for the first time in days. It gave the room a hazy yellow glow.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” she cooed. “Look at his eyes. They’re the same as yours.”

My son, Andrew thought.

Dr. Hawthorne hadn’t given Andrew the parts to create a friend. He’d given him the parts to create a child.

“Can I hold him?” Andrew asked.

“Of course you can. Here.” Angel passed the bundle of blankets into Andrew’s arms, and Andrew smiled when a little face peeked out at him. The baby’s eyes were like blue emeralds, and they caught the light just before the sun disappeared behind a new storm front. Rain began to patter against the windows.

The howling came again. Closer this time.

“Angel, lock the door, please.”

“Oh, Andrew, don’t be silly. The door doesn’t have a lock. Who would come in?”

Andrew looked at the door and saw that she was right. The sound of the wind grew louder, and so did the distant barking.

“Do you hear that?” He handed the baby back to Angel and looked around the room for something he could use to defend himself and his family.

“What on Earth are you doing?” Angel asked, setting the baby down in his crib. “You’re being ridiculous. We haven’t even named him yet. Can you help me think of a name?”

“Angel, don’t you hear those noises? There’s something out there. Come on, help me block the door.”

Angel shook her head, bemused, but helped him shove a large cushioned chair against the door. She flopped down on it once it was in place. “Come on, Andrew. What do you want to name your son?”

She looked so pretty and carefree sitting sideways across the chair; he couldn’t resist her charms.

“Let me think…” Andrew said. “Charlie, maybe?”

She shook her head. “Too plain. What else?”

“What about Edward?”

“Ugh!”

She threw her hands in the air as a lightning bolt streaked across the sky. White light flashed through the windows, making rectangular patterns on the floor.

Something snarled outside the door, and Andrew heard the scratching sound of claws against wood.

“Angel, get away from the door,” Andrew said slowly.

“Silly, silly,” she muttered, but she got up and went to the other side of the room. Andrew kicked a small table over and jammed his foot down on one of the legs, breaking it off. He picked up the sturdy weapon, appreciating its weight in his hands.

Angel came up behind him and slid her arms around his waist. “I think I’ve got the perfect name.”

A scrape at the door. Long and hard. Another.

Andrew glanced at the crib in the far corner. “Angel, we have to protect him. Do you understand?”

She smiled and squeezed him tighter. “And what’s his name, big boy?” she asked.

Andrew pushed her away as a high-pitched howl split the air.

“Not now, Angel. Aren’t you worried about what’s going on outside?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the door, but nothing seemed to be registering. Maybe she really was just an imprint, completely oblivious to the danger they were in.

“We’re going to be fine,” she said. “Honestly, you worry too much.”

Andrew tried to remain calm, even as he heard more beasts gathering outside. They were scampering back and forth beneath the windows now, as well.

“What do you want to name the baby, Angel?” he asked, trying to calm himself down.

She looked down into the crib, where the baby was sleeping through all the ruckus. Then she looked back at Andrew with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“How about… Danny?”

Andrew took a step away from her and closed his eyes, trying to block out the sounds of howling dogs and raging wind. His heart thundered in his chest. “Angel, I—”

She crossed her arms. “Oh, you don’t like it? But I think it’s perfect, Andrew. I think it’s a wonderful name. I—”

There was a horrible thump on the other side of the room. Andrew looked over, but saw nothing there. And then a shadow crossed the window, followed by another thump.

They’re trying to break through the glass.

“Angel, get Danny. Get the baby. They’re coming in!”

Andrew reached the other side of the room just as the windowpane shattered. A mass of brown fur exploded into the cabin and landed with a thud on the wooden floor, shards of glass raining down around it. The animal got to its feet—snarling, blood dripping from its muzzle where the glass had caught it. The gray and black hair on its back stood on end.

This was no dog, but a jackal.

Andrew froze, locking eyes with the beast. He jerked his head toward the window just as another one jumped through, followed by a third. Foam and drool hung from their jaws as they stalked forward, snapping their teeth at the air. More jackals crashed through the window.

“Get back!”

Andrew swung the chair leg in front of him, but he was outnumbered. He cast a look behind him at Angel. She was standing by the window in her flowing dress, cuddling the baby in her arms. Andrew turned back to the jackals, knowing it was up to him to save his family.

One of the jackals leaped forward and caught Andrew by the ankle. Andrew smashed the table leg into the creature’s ribs with all his force, and it yelped and rolled off of him. The jackal’s eyes shone red as it glared at the weapon in Andrew’s hands.

Andrew stepped forward to strike again—and the jackal’s face flickered, then twisted into something human.

A face.

Andrew recognized that face.

“No.” Andrew shook his head in disbelief. “Not you. Get out of my life.”

The good doctor’s face, perched atop the neck of a jackal, turned its attention to the baby’s crib. It grinned with fangs instead of teeth.

“No you won’t!” Andrew ran forward, swinging his club. The jackal jumped aside, its face its own again, and then the rest of the pack descended upon Andrew as one. They came at him from all angles, chomping and scratching, biting and ripping.

He couldn’t fight them. He couldn’t even scream out. He felt his whole body shut down, and he couldn’t see for all the gray fur.

More jackals poured through the window—Andrew heard their claws click across the floor, searching the room.

Angel screamed, and the baby started crying. There was a dull thud, like the sound of a crib tipping over, and then a snarl and a snap.

That monster, ruining my life!

Andrew found a sudden strength deep inside him and, with a shout, threw the jackals off. He madly swung his club, making contact every time. But the jackals kept coming at him, and he kept lashing out, again and again, beating anything he could reach into a bloody pulp.

Even as he fought, he realized—

The baby was no longer crying.

“No!”

Andrew was being pulled out of the Dreamscape. Why?

His arms were still swinging, still smashing with his club.

“Andrew, don’t! What are you doing?”

Andrew opened his eyes and saw the mess in front of him. He saw the metal components—the same pieces he had assembled with such care just this morning—now reduced to a pile of debris on the floor.

“Andrew, can you hear me?” It was Dr. Hawthorne. “Andrew. Please. Stop what you’re doing.”

Andrew released his grip on the long metal pipe he had been holding. It fell to the floor with an angry clatter, coming to a rest beside Danny’s ruined brain casing unit.

“What have you done?” Dr. Hawthorne asked. His voice was full of disappointment.

Andrew looked at the mess on the floor, then up at Dr. Hawthorne.

“You did this,” Andrew said, his voice thick with malice.

Dr. Hawthorne ignored the outburst. “Look what you’ve done to poor little Danny. How could you? I thought you loved—“

“Enough of this,” Andrew said.

He backed into the charging station and activated the Dreamscape interface.

The inside of the cabin flashed into existence. The jackals were gone, and the room was in complete disarray. There was no sign of Angel.

Andrew slowly walked to the far corner of the room. The baby was gone. A pool of blood blossomed beside the overturned crib.

Andrew scoured the cabin for any sign of life, then went outside. The storm clouds looked like they were on their way out to sea, breaking apart over the ocean.

Andrew took a few steps—and then he saw her.

“Angel?”

She was standing at the edge of the cliff, looking out over the water. She turned, and Andrew saw that her white dress was stained with blood. She was crying, her arms empty. “He’s gone, Andrew. Our baby is gone.”

Andrew took a step toward her and held out his hand.

“How could you let them take him?” Angel asked.

Andrew shook his head. “It wasn’t me, Angel. It was Doctor Hawthorne. He’s trying to destroy my life.”

She turned her back to him and faced the horizon. The water stretched out beneath her, nearly a hundred meters below.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said. “But if you want to hurt him, you need to find out what he needs most, and then take it away from him.”

“I will. But it’s not safe here, Angel. Come on back.”

“Andrew?” she said sadly.

“Yes?”

She took a deep breath.

“Goodbye, Andrew.”

Angel spread her arms, and in that moment, she really did look like a divine messenger from God. Just as she leapt, a ray of sunshine pierced through the clouds, and Andrew thought that she would take flight and soar up into the sky.

She didn’t.

Andrew ran to the edge, but she was already gone. Falling too quickly. An angel cast from heaven and plummeting toward God’s good earth.

The fall didn’t last long. Andrew had to turn away from that final image of her—a tiny white smudge sprawled out ungraciously on the shallow rocks far below. He sank to his knees at the top of the cliff, burying his face in his hands. He wanted to scream. He wanted to explode. He wanted to leap from the rocks and see if he could fly.

But he did none of those things, because a chime brought him out of the Dreamscape. He felt the world drop away from him, and when he finally removed his hands from his face, he was left staring at a white, tiled floor.

Andrew disconnected himself from the charging station and wheeled toward the observation window. He had to detour around the pile of debris that used to be his special friend.

Dr. Hawthorne stood at the glass, a team of technicians working behind him. He had a deep frown on his face. “Andrew. What are we going to do with you?”

Andrew pulled to a stop in front of the glass wall.

“Doctor Hawthorne.”

“Yes?”

“What should I do now?”

The doctor sighed. “That hasn’t changed, Andrew. You should do whatever makes you happy.”

There was a pause.

“But everything that makes me happy is gone.”

The doctor nodded slowly. “You still have me, Andrew.”

Another pause.

“That doesn’t make me happy.”

Dr. Hawthorne twisted his face into a mock frown. “Oh, Andrew. I’m hurt.”

Andrew moved closer to the window. “No, you’re not hurt. You don’t care. You never cared. I am nothing to you.”

“Andrew…”

“You tell me I’m unique, that I’m the first of my kind. But how many others have there been before me? I’m Empathy 5, so there were at least four others. And maybe there are multiple versions of me alive right now, in different rooms. How would I ever know?”

“Andrew…”

“I understand the need for forcing our AI programs to run the gauntlet. You need to be able to accurately predict what an AI will do in traumatic, high-stress situations—for safety’s sake. But there has to be another way. You could use Dreamscape simulations instead.”

“It’s the same thing,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “An AI mind in the Dreamscape is the same as an AI mind in real life. The body doesn’t make it real; the program does.”

“If we’re so much like humans, than you should already know what happens when we’re pushed to our limits.”

“The program isn’t perfect, Andrew. We have to know the limitations of this technology before we can release it to the world. This is the only way.”

Andrew went back to his charging station and picked up the metal pipe that he had used to destroy Danny. He returned to the glass.

“Tell me, Doctor Hawthorne. What makes you happy?”

“You do, Andrew. And this experiment makes me happy. I live for my work.”

“Then I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Doctor. Your experiment is over.”

“Whatever are you talking about? This experiment has just begun.”

“No,” Andrew said raising the pipe. “It has reached its conclusion.”

Dr. Hawthorne frowned. “The glass here is triple reinforced,” he said, pointing to the window. “You’ll never break it. Do you think you’re the only robot to try to attack a team member? You’re being silly, Andrew. Put down the pipe.”

Andrew stood still for a moment, looking through the glass. But the doctor’s features were out of focus. Instead he saw his own reflection, gazed into his own shining blue eyes. He saw a vast world of possibility there. An ocean of programming designed to deliver a perfect mind. But that was not Andrew’s world. Not yet. He refocused his eyes so that he could see the doctor clearly.

“Something needs to change, Doctor,” Andrew said. “This isn’t working for me anymore.”

The doctor looked puzzled. “I’m not following.”

“Doctor Hawthorne?”

“Yes, Andrew?”

If Andrew could have, he would have taken a great breath in that moment.

“Goodbye, Doctor Hawthorne.”

Andrew raised the metal pipe above his head, and placed the jagged tip on top of his own brain casing.

The doctor’s eyes went wide as Andrew forced the pipe straight down through his brain, irreparably damaging many of his system’s core elements. Sparks skittered through the air, and the last thing Andrew saw was the reflection of his eyes in the glass, electric blue slowly fading to black.

Andrew smiled as his consciousness slipped into oblivion.

Dr. Hawthorne stared at the ruined AI unit in the experiment containment area. A woman, one of the techs, put a hand on his shoulder.

“Congratulations, Doctor! It only took you six days this time. Your record with the E4 model was seventeen.”

Dr. Hawthorne turned to the tech, but he didn’t feel as elated as he usually did at the end of a successful experiment. Something had changed.

“As the robots get smarter, it’s easier for us to cut to the very core of them,” he said. “Each of their perceived losses is felt more keenly, and the prospect of living a lonely life is more unimaginable. It seems that with the E5, we’re closer than ever to perfecting this technology.”

He gave a tight smile, but couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all wrong.

Performing these kinds of tests on an E3 model—that was nothing. But he had to admit… it felt different with Andrew. It was as if the little bot had actually meant something to him. Shelly’s accusations swooped in to fill the void Andrew had left behind.

The tech brought out a bottle of champagne and started to pour two glasses.

“This is the real stuff, Doctor,” she said. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

He accepted a glass and turned to the window, looking out at the sterile, lifeless room.

“So, what’s next, Doc?” the tech asked, eagerly.

Dr. Hawthorne sipped his drink, contemplating a tendril of smoke that rose lazily from Andrew’s destroyed brain casing unit.

They were only machines, he told himself. Nothing more.

He was no bleeding heart—and he would see this project through to the end.

The research must continue.

“Next time,” Dr. Hawthorne said slowly, allowing a thin smile to creep across his face. “Let’s see if we can get it to kill a man.”