by Martin Lochman
She was a robot. They all were.
Al was just about to answer the young student’s question when the realization set in, triggering a cascade of involuntary responses through his body. A chill crept up his spine, his heart rate skyrocketed, and something akin to a cinder block settled in his gut. He swallowed, trying to at least get rid of the unpleasant dry sensation in his throat, but it only made him cough.
“Are you okay?” the student asked, a concerned expression on her face.
Of course she looked and sounded worried. To pass as a human, she had to be able to not only understand the intricacies of verbal and non-verbal communication but, more importantly, also produce adequate and context-appropriate responses. He was visibly not okay, so instead of insisting on getting an answer to her question (which most certainly wasn’t a genuine inquiry but simply a part of her programming), it was only logical that she would address it.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Al mumbled and got up from his desk.
His legs felt unsteady, but he would rather collapse than sit back down. Gritting his teeth, he shot the robot one last look and headed for the staircase.
He had no idea where to go–he just knew he had to get away. His desk was located in the group work area on the third floor of the library building, which meant that he had to pass through two levels and the foyer, and only then would he finally be outside.
He didn’t run. Not because he couldn’t (though with how shaky his legs were feeling, tripping and falling down the stairs was a real possibility), but because he didn’t want to attract more attention than he already had.
The look a duo of students gave him when he passed them on the second floor would suggest that his demeanor still came across as abnormal, so he forced himself to slow down and put on as nonchalant an expression as he could muster at the moment.
Nothing to see here, he thought, wishing that he could implant the notion into their synthetic brains.I am just a guy heading out for a small break, nothing else.
It seemed to have helped–the bevy of undergraduates leaving the study area on the first floor barely noticed him, even though he almost stumbled on the penultimate step. He waited for them to pass, then carefully followed them. His heart was pounding with anticipation, fear, and quiet hope.
One last flight of stairs. Nod and smile at Nick at the turnstile, then straight toward the sliding door. Twenty seconds at most–nothing to it.
Except…
What are you going to do when outside?
Another wave of nauseating unease swept through his body. He had been thinking in the context of his workplace, a single, albeit considerably large building, but what if this… situation extended well beyond?
What if he was the only human in the world? The last human?
The idea was so strong, so mind-numbing that he didn’t even notice Amelia, one of the Library managers, until he all but collided with her. She was a petite woman, barely over a hundred fifty centimeters in height, but at that moment, standing right in front of him, she appeared to tower over him.
“Are you okay, Al?”
She spoke gently, yet he felt her inquisitive gaze bore into his eyes. Where had she even come from? She seldom left her office–he couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen her anywhere else. The fact that she was here at this particular moment, effectively blocking his escape wasn’t a coincidence.
Wireless communication… did you really think they weren’t networked?
“Al?” she said, a hint of urgency in her voice.
He shot a glance at the door behind her. He could make a run for it. Feign left, go right, past the student who was currently retrieving his belongings from a locker.
“Al?”
Looking back at her, he noticed that her stance had changed–she had staggered her legs slightly, lowering her center of gravity. She knew exactly what he was planning to do and was ready to stop him.
Desperation drove him to act nonetheless. He bounded left, coming to a sharp stop just outside of her outstretched arms, and continued the maneuver by setting off in the opposite direction, exactly as he had visualized a moment earlier. For a split-second, it looked like he would actually manage to successfully reach the door and the uncertain safety behind it, but then the uncompromising reality pulverized the glimmer of hopeful anticipation.
He let out a surprised yelp as she grabbed his arm and pulled him close.
“Help me!” he yelled and trashed around in her embrace, straining to break free, but she was too strong. Unnaturally strong.
He continued his futile struggle until she reached to the back of his head, her cold fingers brushing against the skin of his neck, and did something that blew his consciousness out like a candle.
#
Amelia sighed and gently laid the limp body of Autonomous Librarian version 3.0 on the ground next to the lockers. This was the third time in the past two months that it went haywire, despite the repeated assurances from the IT Services that the software glitch had been patched up. Granted, even in its agitated state, the android didn’t pose any danger to the patrons, since it had been purposefully designed to be lighter and physically weaker than a human, but Amelia considered having to send it away for repairs every time to be an unnecessary nuisance. Not to mention the fact that it reflected rather poorly on the image of the whole library.
But the director insisted on moving with the times, so there was nothing she could do but grit her teeth and follow his vision.
At least the human staff worked more or less as they were supposed to.
END