KETTY'S SUBDIVISION Wattys2017

Chapter 2-Part I

The small copse of trees offered good protection on the low-lying dunes. Ketty knew the starter bots would be holed up there, newbs always did. She hugged the dense crab grass and circled behind, belly crawling for the last quarter mile. Blue birds called peacefully in the afternoon sun, with a stiff breeze blowing sporadic clouds that laid a harsh pattern of shadows across her field of view. She took a bead and squeezed off the first shot as sweat dripped onto her scope. It made her shot go wide and she let out a frustrated sigh. Then, holding her breath so the optics would clear, she took aim again. The sand was running down her back and blasting her eyes in a relentless barrage.

She could feel it sifting across the fine hairs of her back and tickling its way down her shirt. She didn't mind the discomfort since she was in tune with her body. Not satisfied, but she could endure an hour wait if it meant a bot would learn a valuable lesson. For example, a bot had the basic knowledge that humans were patient when it came to matters of survival. If a bot stood guard for an hour and saw no movement, then received a kill shot, the adaptation to its programming would be superior in every way.

In Ketty's mind, the training process was crucial to developing safe and efficient bots. It was the key to keeping Artificial Intelligence as a cornerstone in today's society. She knew what history had shown people about robots usurping human authority, and this one step was the answer to the Galactic problem facing humans today. Could bots be trusted?

She pulled the trigger. Bzzt, the quantum rifle jerked and the bot went limp, paralyzed by the teaching protocol.

She patted the old gun. When her father threw it away, she had snatched it out of the Recycler. The shiny composite carbon stock cradled a red power cell nicely, with the crystal barrel splitting at the rear, encircling the power cell, and joining back together towards the front. It was set to stun, but it could be deadly with the twist of a small knob inset below the trigger guard.

Ninety-nine of her bots got the shocking surprise of their life that day, but Tychicknu was noticeably absent. She found him later, back at the barn sipping stray electrons from a small power inverter. "I'm fully capable of dominating all your battle tactics," he had said offhandedly. She didn't doubt it but would test him later. Meanwhile, she sent the rest to their sleeping racks and ran down to the Southern Ocean. Her sun board was stashed in a small shed she had buried in the ground. It bothered her Boondock, the hundredth bot, was beyond hope. His personality and lack of focus set him apart like an abandon sheep. It reminded her of an ancient tale from Old Earth where the farmer left the healthy sheep to be torn up by wolves while he searched far and wide to find the one runt. She was willing to leave the ninety-nine to save him, and with every fiber of her being, that's what she would do. Some would say she had a savior complex, but in her heart Boondock had a destiny to make a difference in the world. Under the watchful eye of her father and the unrelenting control of the Firm, she was determined to make him her success story and prove them wrong.

The wooden door squealed on rusty hinges. She recalled when she had installed the shed in the side of a sand dune about a year ago.

"Come on Boondock," she had chided back then. He was about to fail his first year and she had been frustrated. "Dig me a hole." The company that sent the units catered to a high-end clientele. If he didn't make it this season, he would probably be headed for the scrap heap. "I need you to dig this sand dune out," she coaxed him with a little charm in her voice.

"I will have you know, young mistress, that despite the fact I am small and may not qualify for graduation, my performance protocols are far above the menial task of digging a hole."

She laughed at his sincere logic. "Keep digging, it's getting dark."

"I don't see what is so funny, this is wearing on by Burnite joints even as we speak."

"Don't worry, little one, they're guaranteed for two hundred years of service," she had said. "Besides, we can always put some new ones in." His humor was apparent, though it came as a quirk in his programming rather than an intentional design.

That was almost a year ago. She remembered the article in an AI trade journal that chronicled an attempt to make robots with humor. The first batch had begun telling the funniest jokes, and then burned up their sintered brains to protect the humans they were making fun of. The robots realized they had actually hurt the human's feelings enough that the First Law of Robotics kicked in.

"A robot shall not allow a human to come to harm." She recited the fundamental rule in her head. They taught it in second grade, it was that basic.

The jokes struck right at the heart of who the people were. Told by a human, one would realize they were just making fun, like friends did, but to the robot, it seemed as if they had mortally wounded the human. The project ended in a total disaster when the unit self-destructed. There were more attempts to make a humorous robot, but in the end, it never panned out.
Boondock was different. Different in his personality, and different to her. He had grown on her to the point where she had a deep emotional attachment. There was no way she would let him go. In fact, she had several plans of how she could keep him. She had a healthy savings account but they would probably want to dissect him, so she planned on making the trip to Firm headquarters. If all else failed, kidnapping was her a final option. She could always flee into near space a make a new life for the two of them.

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