Get ready for a thrilling ride into a future where robots and humans clash for control in RoboNomics, the updated and refreshed version of the 2013 sci-fi classic.
In Toronto, elementary school teacher Andrea Anderson's world crumbles when she's rep...
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At the sound of the first recess bell, the children rush toward the coatracks at the back of the classroom. Laughter and the zip of backpacks fill the air, along with the sweet-acrid scent of apples and bananas on the verge of turning. Ajay and Philip bend their heads together over Ajay's backpack, and the rest of the students busy themselves with changing into outdoor running shoes.
The I. I. U., meanwhile, this machine they call "Teacher ", stands near me and watches the kids with its head flicking back and forth. Ajay pulls a robotic action figure out of his knapsack. The android, as if it is a novice teacher, doesn't notice.
"Ajay, put it back," I call to him. "You and Philip can play with the toy after the last bell."
Ajay snaps his head around to look at me. The figure slides out of his hand and into his backpack. But his hand still hovers near the opening.
"Zip it up, please," I say.
He watches me, and I nod. He looks at the I.I.U. She – it – does nothing beyond smiling stupidly at the children.
"Ajay," I call his attention back to me. "You know the rules. You may not bring toys to school. Put it away."
"All right." He sighs in frustration as he zips up his bag. He turns away from Philip and puts on his outdoor shoes.
I bristle knowing I have to step back into the role of teacher. Maybe I shouldn't reprimand him. Maybe I should let the machine fail and my classroom devolve into chaos. That way, the school board would see that a bot can't replace me. All I have to do is curtail my professional habits for a little while, and then I'll be back at the head of the class.
Besides, it's not as if I'm paid to manage this classroom anymore, I think.
Shoes on, the children line up at the classroom door. They stand waiting for their new teacher. The machine takes a few uncannily fluid steps towards them, her dark eyes eager as puppy eyes.
"Thank you, Miss Anderson," the bot says to me as it exits. My skin crawls when it speaks to me as if we are colleagues.
#
I look at the clock. It's free choice time, and the classroom is bedlam. Children are laughing. Children are gesturing above their desks, sending secret messages to each other. They are having competitions to see who can finish math exercises fastest. My former students make plans for recess: they talk about building piles of leaves out of the first that fell throughout the morning. The I.I.U., in the meantime, sits behind my desk and observes the misbehavior.
I sit at the group worktable and make notes about the I.I.U.'s lack of reaction. I'm sure to save a copy of my notes to my account on the iVerse to send to the union. There's nothing new, though. Every day is the same: I sit at the side of the classroom and watch as my former class goes wild.
