I have finally reached Watrine.
Only 12% remains of my full charge, so I will have to charge myself pretty soon. Unfortunatly, I do not know how to make use of my portable batteries, so I am going to need a safe place to figure it out. This town is very small; and since the people from the aeroplane are here, it will not be easy to find somewhere to hide.
On the way here I could see that Watrine is the only town in the near, and it consists of a gas station, a few cabins, a supermarket with a big parking lot, a school, a restaurant, a museum and two hotels; one being larger and having more windows than the otherone whose name is spelled wrong on its sign as "HOSTEL". If I rent a room at a hotel I will temporarily be left alone, which is exactly what I need. I look around both of the hotels, and notice that there are way more vehicles parked outside the bigger hotel, with the bus from the runway among them. I decide to hide in "HOSTEL" instead. The way there is also a lot shorter, which is another benefit. I step through the entrence, but I cannot see any reception anywhere. Everything notable in here is a grumpy man, who is sitting by a table and listening to slow music. He is wearing a grey T-shirt, and suspenders over his shoulders. He is balding, and he has this hopeless, tired face.
- Hello, I would like to rent room here, I tell him. The man does not move out of the spot.
- One night is twenty dolls, he answers. A slight enthusiasm is seen in his eyes when saying this, even though he remains on his chair. I give him a hundred dollar bill, which leaves his eyes wide-open.
- One night, keep the surplus, I tell him. I do not have time for change, since my charge has lowered another seven percent during my walk to the hotel.
- You could have a room at the other joint for these cash... he stutters, and then looks at me. Then what're you doing in my dump? he asks me. He is right, people seem to statistically prefer the other hotel over this one. Before this man gets the time to ask more questions, I give him another four one hundred dollar bills. He pushes the money back to me along with a key.
- Don't worry, I can shut my trap, he says with a certain glee in his voice. I take the key, but leave the four bills on the table. The number 24 is written on the keychain, so I suppose I have Room 24. After looking around the hotel, I find Room 24 in the middle of the upper floor. I put the key in the keyhole and the lock open.
The room is very small, and is furnished with a bed, a desk, an empty wardrobe and a rug. The room is not as fancy as Sir's mansion, though it is slightly cleaner if you ignore the dust. The temperature is the only real problem, as the room is very cold. The radiator in the room must be turned off, if there even is one. I lock the door and open my backpack. I must recharge myself quite soon, because 5% will not get me far. I randomly pick up one of the batteries, but I cannot find any buttons or wires on it. How could I possibly transfer its energy to my body? Should I swallow it? That would make sense, since people devour food for its chemical energy.
I put the battery in my mouth, but it does not fit in my throat and no matter how much I try to get it down it does not work. I am just glad that I do not have any Pain Sensors in my throat, because this would probably have hurt a lot. When I remove the battery from my mouth hole I accidently drop it on my foot, and the pain tempts me to scream. I do not want to wake the hotel owner up, so I tighten my fist and try to hang on. This is very stupid, because now my hands also hurt. I remember what I read in Sir's message, that I was manifactured to be more sensitive than other robots. I am happy for all the other machines' sake that no one feels as strong pain as I do.
My battery is only 4% now, so my circumstances are sure to deteriorate unless I charge myself soon. There must be some way to use this portable battery, through some kind of command perhaps? I try with the most obvious code words; "battery", "charge", "battery-charge", "energy", "protocol: charge", "protocol: battery", "execute: charge", "execute: battery" and so on, but nothing works. Only 3% remain now.
Could this be the end? Usually I use this stationary charger that consists of a plate I have my left hand on. My left hand! I will have to do something with my left hand, but what? Do I just have to hold the battery with my left hand, because I have already done that plenty of times without anything happening. Even though I wish I had my manual, I actually have something equally as good; my code! I browse my program after rows relevant to energy transfer, and I find something that should be useful.
<charging#>
doCharge...
<doCharge:1>x</doCharge:1>
<if227:>energeticOverCharge...24kw</if227:>
<if227:do>++IncreaseFan++</if227:doA>
........................................
<if:energyDecreses>ENERGY-1=ENERGY</if:energyDecreases> <ENERGY=2%>
<findSource1>if:#stationary1.2</findSource1>
<findSource2>om:#battery2.3</findSource2>:
<if:lefthand+neck>execute:doCharge:2</if:lefthand+neck>
<doCharge:2>doCharging=true<doCharge:2>
</charging#>
My battery only has 2% left, but I do not know how to charge it. I follow what I have assumed from reading the code, and hold the battery with my left hand while I am holding a finger on my neck. I am hopefully going to start charging now. I have been standing like this for twenty minutes, but nothing has happened. Now I only have 1% left. I push my finger harder against the neck, but I am careful not to shut myself down. My stationary charger activated automatically upon contact. My code suggests this as the only way to charge, but it does not work. This is the last thought that I remember.
My battery is now completely empty, 0%. I am not operating anymore, I am no longer active.I am dead, so how can I still think? I am out of energy, which all of my functions require, but I am still present in my own consciousness. All my senses are working, I see, I hear and I feel. But where am I? This place is not Sir's mansion and it is not Hostel.
Before I have time to think over my circumstances, I realize how I can sense everything. My program, my experiences; me. I am not a man, but am I really a machine? Familiar faces are everywhere,Sir, the man inte the grey uniform, the people from the twon, the people from the aeroplane and the owner of Hostel. Everyone I have ever met has gathered one line of code, one long thead of information, one entity. I can also feel a pulse of other robots' presence coming from somewhere else. There, I can see PA-3212, PA-1129, PC-3345, PB-2012 and approximately 3832 more. My name PD-4001 is quite unique, as no other robot has the serial number PD-xxxx. Could this because I am specially ordered? I can hear all sounds that my microphones ever have recorded, all the terrible things Sir has shouted in my face, all the question I have been asked and everything else. I can also feel everything. I can feel Sir's punches, how they all differed from one another. Some hits were more powerful and others were faster, they all hit different places. I remember one hit that barely had any acceleration at all, but landed right on my nose.
I also remember the first abuse that I was ever bothered with, that day when I was brought to Sir. It is so clear, how the man in the grey uniform forced me into the mansion. It is right here, it is happening right now. One month passes by, and I am standing outside of Sir's mansion with an almost fully charged batteri, ready to head off. My battery provides 140 hours of energi, but it is going discharge within twenty-four hours. How can 140 hours and twenty and a half hour be equal?
That is impossible, since 140 = 24 x 5.83 and 24 = 140 - 116. Something has made my battery lose energy six times quicker than my calculations indicated, probably due to all today's transportation.
I have walked for over seven hours today, and my shoes are not doing much against the pain of walking anymore. If there is a chance that I have survived this and that I have any energy left, I must go elsewhere. Unfortunately, I have nowhere to go but Sir's mansion. I am not going to go back there, because Sir is probably angrier at me than he has ever been. That returning to Switzerland is not an option only means that they are no options at all. That flight was meant to go to London, which therefore is my only actual goal. There may not have anything I need there, but since the flight made an emergency landing here I know it is further away from Sir than Watrine. I have a total of 25,500 dollars left, and that should be enough for the tickets and resources I am going to need. I feel how I am still in this place, and I fear that I will remain stuck here for all eternity.
At Sir's manor, I once saw a cartoon show about a figure who fell down a cliff and died. Then he flew up wearing white dress and having ring above his head, and he got to a place called 'Heaven'. I drew the conclusion that Heaven is a place people go to when they die, but I have no idea of where robots go when they break. What is going to happen to my consciousness? Is this my fate, is this some kind of Heaven for robots? Are the other robots here also dead or is it just their absence that I sense? I try to call on them, but they do not respond. I have no mouth, I have no voice. All there is here is information. No metal, no flesh, no matter. There are just memories and information, there are only lines of code, like an eternal maze of letters and numbers. Everything starts to cease, and soon I am all alone. All that remains is me; no memories and no code, just my consciousness. No light, no darkness, nothing.
I can feel nothing but the emptiness that imprisons me. All existence is fading, and everything that remains is one single memory. One scence, one event. I am on the aeroplane again, and I see how a man pushes another man's neck, and he is shut down like a machine. That might work in the opposite way, maybe I can turn myself on this way? I do not base this on any logic whatsoever, but at this point I am desperate. I try to feel my fingers, and a pair of finger tips are starting to appear. I push them against my neck, and everything is coming back. The floor returns, and so do the walls, the wardrobe and my physical body. The world outside of Hostel returns, and is still under the darkness of the night. I am holding a portable battery, which now is empty. I take a look at my energy level, which is 68%.
My internal battery must have charged while I was shut off and holding a portable battery, and this experience has gained me knowledge that can be essential for my safety. All of sudden, I can hear two voices coming from outside, and out curiosity I open up the door of the room, and stealth down the staircase. Through a blurry window, I can see two shapes, one of which appears to be the owner of this place.
- Didya hear, Edna? Then he just spat out another four hundred! I can hear the owner say.- Wow, but why didn't you take 'em? a female voice asks.
- I dunno, it just felt a little fishy. But hey, one hundred is cash too, the owner says.
- 'Course it is, but you're never gonna afford that AssaultBot o'yours if you won't open up for tips! the woman answers.
I sneak back to my room and lock the door slowly. I put myself in sleep mode in order to save energy, since I do not have much to do throughout the night. A few hours pass by, and after the first beams of sunlight strike my face I am awakened. It is time for me to head for London. I put on my backpack and leave the battery on the floor, since I will not need it any longer. On my way from Hostel, I look back on the small building. It is so different from everything else I have ever seen, it is so small and simple. Due to its many cracks across the facade, it looks as though it could fall down to pieces at any second. The owner and his wife wave at me, and I wave back carefully. After some time on the road I stop a local resident and ask him for the fastest way to London.
The man reaches out with an arm to point at a great brick building in the Northwest. In order to not seem rude, I offer the man a one-hundred-dollar bill. He will not accept it, so I put it in one of the back pockets of my pants. Before I have even reached the pedestrian crossing, I recognize a face from the flight. When I focus I can see that this person has the uniform of a flight attendant, and they are accompanying a police officer. The police wears a black vest with a badge over a white shirt, and differs a lot from the blue policemen shown on television. I try to move on without being discovered, but it is already too late. The fly attendant sees me and shouts.- There he is! It's him! I start to run, but this results in the officer running as well. He starts running across the pedestrian crossing, but luckily I am way faster than him. After about five hundred metres, he stops and starts talking into his transceiver, and once I have gone another five hundred metres I can see a police car pull over. The two officers who run out of the car seem to have predicted that I would go for the asphalted road to the train station, because they for a blockade ahead of me. I stop when I see this, because I do not intend to tackle anyone.
- Hello, I say calmly, but the policemen ignore me. I look around the road, and have an idea. I stare walking backwards, and turn right. I saw that there was a road barrier over here, which I jump back at and take down. A cloud of dust ascends from me, and my back hurts. One of the policemen grins at me while the other one is mostly chocked when I rise.
Before any of the officers reach me, I quickly dodge and start running. They seem to have assumed my move, as one of them kicks my leg so that I fall over. Then, they help holding me still until that constable that started chasing me reaches us.
- You are hereby under arrest. Everything you say can and will be used against you in court of law, he says proudly. It is first now thart I take notice of his mustache. He goes behind me and pulls out a pair of handcuffs, which he fumbles a little with before getting them on me. It seems like he have not used those for a long time, since people's skills fade.
- Williams, McGlee, bring him to the station, he tells the reinforcement.
- Right on, PC, the one who is female says. Williams and McGlee then bring me to the police station, which looks quite steady comparing to everything else in the town - even the big hotel. The station is built on bricks painted in white, and has a giant window by the glass door, both having a discreet shade of blue. The roof is black, and does not have much detail to describe.
The officers bring me into the building, and instantly confiscate my backpack. The male in the twosome, who has dark skin and long hair searches my pants pockets, and then he searches the little pocket on my shirt, before going through my entire body. He begins with my arms, and goes over to my torso, then goes down to my waist to end with my legs. In disappointment, he does not find anything, and then lead me to a small cell with bars over it.
I get locked in, and through the bars I can see how the female officer searches through my bag. First, she picks my money, and then she picks the batteries up and looks at them with a surprised face. A fourth police, whom I have never seen before then comes to my cell and tells me that the Constable wants to interrogate me. He leads me to a small, dark room that is illuminated by a short fluorescent lamp on the ceiling. The little light is reflected by the metal table at the centre of the room, which is surrounded by two chairs facing each other. The personal computer with moustache sits on one of the chairs, and the policeman without moustache commands me to sit down on the other chair.
- Thank you, Chuck, the personal computer tells the policeman. He then looks at me with a menacing look.
- Okay, so you should have forced a plane to land here in Watrine, he says and looks at me.
- It was indeed my fault that the plane had to land, I agree. The computer nods.
- You're quick to admit, and that just makes everything so much easier for all of us. Well, who are you working for? he asks me.
- I am not working for anyone, I askwed.
- So you have no accomplices, no one that made you commit the crime? the computer asks, while scratching his moustache. I do not really understand what he means with 'crime', because I am not sure disrupting a signal really breaks the law. I did violate the recommendations in my manual, it that is what he means. Should that not be a crime Sir commits, since he is my licensed user?
- What crime? I ask him, who is growing impatient.
- For the love of God! he says loudly. I repeat my question, and this time the computer answers a bit calmer.
- Like I said, you should've forced a plane to land here by disrupting outgoing signals. That is not a crime itself, but witnesses claimed to have seen you run from the scene of the crime as soon as you landed, and we suspect you to have planned this, he explains.
- I never intended to bring the plane down, and I do not wish the passengers any harm, I awnser honestly.
- Then why DID you bring the plane down? he asks.
- I had no other choice, I explain.
- No other choice, what do you mean by that? he asks. You used a machine to disrupt the signal, and you could've turned it off, how didn't you have a choice?
- If I would shut down the machine, I would not make it through the flight. The computer does not seem to understand what I am talking about.
- What machine was it? he asks me. I decide to confess, since he is a computer just like me, or at least he is called one.
- Me, I answer. The computer slowly rises, and kicks his chair down. Then he grabs my shoulders, and I scream.
- Listen closely now, I am tired of your riddles. Speak so I understand, unless you wanna grow old in the country club!
- What do you understand? I ask him. For a while his face is red, and his mustache almost appears to adopt a greyer shade. He then calms himself down.
- Why did you run away from the plane? he asks me. He is not going to believe the truth, so I am going to lie.
- I do not like standing in line, I answer.
- That's right, you ran into a foreign town, miles away; just to spaer time. If you're gonna lie, lie better.
- My name is Jeff Strong, and I work for the Earth's guardian force, my comrades and I are saving the world from evil aliens, I lie. The computer does not answer at first.
- Oh, so you're watching Space Savers. Congratulations, you're as mature as my seven-year-old nephew! He laughs and gives me a short applause, and I mimic his laughter to be polite. The computer stops.
- You're a really tough guy, it's a shame you're a complete douche, the computer says and pats my arm softly. It hurts, but I resist the reaction. I am taken back to the cell by the policeman who escorted me to the computer. The custody has not changed anything since last time I was here. It is small and has a bed attached to the wall, a screen and a water closet in metal.- Hubert, could you please take my shift? The blonde policeman who guards me asks the dark-skinned policeman, who agrees to take his post.
After half an hour I decide to make the best of the situation, so I ask Hubert why they call the man with moustache a computer, and if it is because he is a robot. He explains that PC stands for "Police Constable", and not "Personal Computer". He then tells me that PC Gregory, as his name is, is the only police actually stationed in town, and that he and the other two youths come from Oxford, but they went here due to the emergency landing. Gregory called for help from the national service, and that is when the trio was sent here. I feel a little sorry for the three youngsters, whom had to leave their home town to risk their lives here. I tell him what I think, but he does not listen. Half an hour later the only woman in the young trio arrives to the station.Hubert welcomes her back, and they start a dialogue about nothing.
- Hey Paula, could you take over? I can go get us some coffee, Hubert offers.
- Okay then, but you're paying, the female officer answers.
- You've got a deal, Hubert answers and nods. He then walks out, and Paula stands outside of my bars. She has short, brown hair put up in a ponytail.
I am pretty sure that she has dyed her hair, because I have seen many people with that specific tone, and I have also seen a jar with that hair dye when I passed a barber shop at the airport in Switzerland. Also, I can see a few black straws of hair underneath the shiny layer on top. Instead of giving this complete analysis, I tell the conclusion.
- You are dying your hair. Paula tries to ignore me, but soon turns her head to me.
- What? she answers carefully.
- I have only seen your hair colour artificially, I answer.
- What are you trying to do? she asks me.
- If I am going to spend time in a small, empty room, I might as well hold a conversation with someone, I answer politely.
- I guess that's a way to kill time, she answers, and laughs a little.
Since I have memorized all brands, items, places and people I have ever seen, I can easily generate a discussion interesting for Paula. Ten minutes pass by, and soon Hubert returns with four paper cups and and a white box filled with doughnuts. Paula and Hubert take one cup of coffee each, and Hubert eats a doughnut. Chuck soon joins them, and eats two doughnuts. The three officers then talk about how little they like PC Gregory, and that he is a "cranky old man". Gregory later on arrives, and they decide to talk about me being "impossible" and a "psycho" instead. They keep talking and I hear everything, despite the thick glass wall and the bars seperating us. Their comments make me feel uncomfortable, so I say
- You are not very good at your job, because you have not figured out what I am. They do not hear me at first, but then Chuck looks at me and soon everybody does.
- Excuse me, did you say something? Hubert shouts. So they cannot hear me, but I can hear them. This could used for my advantage. After the coffee, Hubert and Chuck go out, Gregory returns to his office and Paula returns to my cell. This time she is not as willing to talk with me as last time. The first minutes are a little awkward, so I decide not to start talking with Paula as last time. Instead, I sit down on the small bed by the wall.
When I sit down, I can feel something thin touch my bottom. I rise from the bed, but I cannot see anything on the sheet. I then search my back pocket, and pull out a one-hundred-dollar bill. It must be the one that I offered the man who pointed out the train station, and now these are the only money I have left. I put the bill in my right pocket, because if the policemen are going to see it they are surely going to take it from me. I wonder what they are doing with my other possessions, and what are they going to do with me. Anyway, I am grateful that the man who pointed out the station did not accept the bill.
- Paula? I yell. She does not respond ten seconds afterwards, when she turns around and asks me what I want.
- What are you guys going to do with me? I ask her.
- You're coming with us to Oxford, where you'll be put in court, she answers. So I am going to be judged officially, which is definitely going to grab Sir's attention. Paula picks up here phone, and pokes on the screen a little. Thirty-five minutes later, she is staring at me. I do not know why, so I remain quiet.
- You are a-an a-AssaultBot! she whispers loudly. I nod slowly, to confirm her assumption as correct.
- Are you hijacked? Hacked? Possessed? she asks me. Paula seems to have gotten the wrong idea about me, so I tell her everything I have gone through. I tell her about my arrival to- and my time in Sir's mansion. I tell her about the people in the town, about the child on the bus, the aeroplane, Hostel and at last when I was captured. Thinking about it, I probably have gone into way too many details, but Paula just listened.
- Damn it, she then says. Paula then teaches me some social skills.
For example, she advices me not to speak with children, as I can come to fright their parents. I do not really understand why, but who am I to question someone who has been in this society much longer than I have?
I am not allowed to interrupt people, which I already knew. Neither can I give pay people money so that they unofficially treat my presence in a certain way. This is called 'corruption', and is something really bad. Paula tells me that assault is a crime, but Sir cannot be arrested despite all brutal abuse he has put me through.
Crimes like assault, murder and discrimination do not cover machines, because they do not have feelings like humans and other living beings have. Theft does cover machines either, since they are considered as property of their owners. However, this means that stealing from a robot counts as stealing from its owner. We discuss the law for an hour, and I realize that I might be able to use Paula's newfound sympathy for me to get out of captivity.
- Paula, could you please let me out? I ask Paula as nice as I can. She thinks for a while, and then answers.
- Sorry, but if I release you my life's gonna be hell on Earth, Paula explains. She then tells me about the public service that she and the other youths are doing, and that it is the only way for her family to get her into a university. This usually cost a lot of money, but if she breaks her duty her scholarship is put to risk. She needs money, and therefore she cannot help me. I pull out my one-hundred-dollar bill and show it to her.
- How did you... whatever, she says, surprised.
- You should be more careful and examine all pockets on those you catch, I say. Paula looks down, and laughs a bit.
- What did I say about about bribing? Paula goes silent. A hundred dollars won't be enough for university, though, she explains, now sounding more serious.
- There is more in the backpack, I explain. If you need more.
- Listen, I really wish I could help you, but I don't want anyone to see me release a criminal, she mentions.
- We could stage a fake run, I suggest. Paula is close to start laughing again, but she agrees to my idea.
We decide that tomorrow, when the train stops in Oxford, Paula is going to escort me to court and pretend to be knocked over by me. Then I am supposed to run away. I do not know where, but I have plenty of time to figure that out.
- Well, let's say so. But now it's time for us humans to hit the hay, Paula explains while flicking the lights off.
Before Paula leaves me, I stop her.
- Could I read that? I ask her, while pointing at a book that says "UNITED KINGDOM OF GREAT BRITAIN AND NORTH IRELAND LAWS (2025)" on it. She compliments my vision and hands over the book. I browse through the book and decide to memorize all the text in it. Selling- and purchasing narcotics are illegal, which means Sir has been lying to me. Killing humans and even attempting to kill humans are illegal, and it is also illegal to destroy other people's property. I save these laws in my memory, which has plenty of room. My only concern would be for the Random Access Memory, which I would have more of if I would only have the hard drive installed. I stole that hard drive from Sir's computer. Taking it was theft, and also did I sabotage the computer. I then remember that I was supposed to use the hard drive to upgrade myself. And the cooler! I need the cooler, because without it I will not endure high temperatures or be safe from overheating while using my hard drive. I do not have any money later, so my pockets are completely empty. I feel quite uncomfortable with this, but this is hopefully way better than being with Sir.
The rest of the night goes pretty fast, as I read through the whole book and memorize all laws I will have to follow in order to fit in human society. As long as I follow them I will not be arrested again, but I rethink the truth in this; disrupting a signal form an aeroplane is not a crime, but here I sit locked up. After my run from the law, I am probably be chased and wanted all over the country. I do not like to think this far in the future, so I continue reading.
Night becomes morning, and the three young officers take me to from the police station before the sun is even up. The Sun soon goes up, and dyes the sky purple. The sunlight is reflected by the clouds in a bright, red shade. Paula, Hubert and Chuck must be the only people awake right now, because all locations are closed and there is no one else on the street. It is cold outside, comparing to yesterday. We walk for ten minutes before we stand outside of the train station. Just as I can remember, it is a brick building with dark, oblong windows. We go in through the big main entrance, and inside of the building I can see a few people. An old man is sitting on a bench, reading a magazine. He does not pay attention to the policemen and me. However, a woman in Sir's age notices us and bridles at me. The officers lead me through a tunnel that leads to a platform with the sign "RAIL 2". Here, there is an electronic sign saying "TRAIN TO OXFORD 6:15". The clock is five minutes to six, so we we will have to wait for nineteen minutes. The train arrives at ten minutes past, which is five minutes early.
I am brought into the grey metal train, and we sit down in a completely empty van. I am next to Hubert, and in front of Paula, by the window.
- What the hell? We protect England from all the mentals, and the government is stingy on us?! Chuck says frustrated. He means that the car is of poor quality.
- Think about it, they pick a cheap car and book the whole of it so that we can have it for ourselves. That way, no civilains are put to risk, Hubert explains.
- That's pretty clever, Paula comments. I feel forced to say something, too.
- You are really afraid of me, I tell Hubert, whom keeps quiet. Paula looks at me disappointed, and Chuck grins. After forty-five minutes of awkward silence, the officers pull their cellphones up and do not let their looks away until one hour later when an announcement tells that the train is soon coming to a stop in Oxford. The three officers put their phones down in their pockets and rise from their seats. Chuck looks at me, and nods slowly.
- You sat still in two freakin' hours, are you a damn robot or something? he asks me, and I can see Paula blushing.
- I am not a Damn robot, I tell him.
- Never mind, he answers. It is soon time for the rigged escape, so I hope that Paula is still on it. I look at her, and she winks at me with her right eye. Chuck leads me out from the train, but when all of us is on the platform Paula stops him. She offers to escort me to the station.
- You watched this sicko whole o'yesterday, so it's okay, He answers. Paula insists several times to take the responsibility of me, but Chuck is just as determined as her. Hubert says that it seems like Paula wants to be with me, since that Paula ends her attempts to make Chuck change his mind. I was expecting Paula to be the one who escorted me, so this changes my plan pretty much. My hopes were that Paula had come along with the others earlier, but she has obviously not done that. Chuck takes me through the city streets, covered in cobblestone. The buildings here are quite differing from Watrine. They are more of a combination of the brick houses in the Swiss town St. Howard and the big city near the airport. They have the obsolence of the firstly mentioned, and the size of the last mentioned. Now that I walk close to Chuck, I take note of a detail I have not noticed before. He has a sticking plaster on his left cheek.
- What happened? I ask him.
-I have no idea about the hell you're talking about, he answers. But that's unusual in any way. I turn my eyes to his cheek, and he understands what I mean.
- Ah, yeah, he start, and tells me to mind my own business. I decide to not end this conversation now when I have contact with Chuck.
- That constable called you Chuck, right? I mention.
- Chuck's not my name, he explains.
- Then what is it? I ask as a following question. He does not say anything, so I do not either.After going through at least three streets with grey buildings and cars, I hear Hubert saying that we are almost there.
- The trial we are going to is a waste of state resources, since I... I start. Hubert interrupts me and says that I am actually first going to be taken to a local custody where I will be locked in until the government has gathered evidence and found a lawyer to defend me. I look at Paula, who walks behind the other two young men. She looks at me, and shakes her head. She is apparently not going to help me out of this, even though I gave her my last money. Perhaps she only pretended to be on my side, or maybe she thought I would use the money irresponsibly, like purchising illegal services and products. She has betrayed me, but I do not blame her. She is really just doing her duty, even though it means that she turns her back on people she just met. She knows that I am an AssaultBot, so she might not value me on a human level. If she values me this low, the others are surely going to do that. Once they learn that I am a robot Sir is going to be contacted, and bring me back to the mansion. I must get away on my own, otherwise all I have done will be for nothing. Could I punch Chuck? How do I do that? I do not have any such programs, so I am unable to do so. It still may be worth a try, what are the options? I could try taking his gun instead, but the leather belt it is attached to is going to make that idea complicated. Besides, I do not have any programs that allow me to use firearms. I could make a fast movement to distract Chuck, and then struggle out of his then weaker grip before heading off as fast as I can. I try to slap Chuck in the face, but as I do not get any power it results in me patting him softly. Chuck grabs my arm before I have the time to make a second attempt, and strengthens his grip of me. It hurts a lot.
- What are you doing? he asks me, before a bullet goes off. Both of us stand still, and Chuck looks at me with a wide-open mouth.
He picks up his phone and speaks into it.
- Dyer here, the captive has backup! Chuck yells into the device. I look at Paula, who quickly throws her gun into its leather pocket. She must have fired that bullet in order to create a distraction for me. I am slightly relieved that she has not betrayed me after all, but I am mostly grateful.
I take the chance to run when Chuck is talking by breaking apart from him and heading off. I succeeded running away, and I have Paula to thank for that. I wave at her to show my gratefulness, but Hubert and Chuck also see it.
- He's sick! Chuck screams. The officers go smaller and smaller in the distance, and for every step I take, I feel less scared. I got away from Sir, I got away from the people on the aeroplane and I am now getting away from the law. I feel powerful, in a way I have never before. A police car runs by with its sirens on. Five people with the officers' uniforms are running towards me, and they are all armed with either guns or batons. I must leave this streat in order not to face them. There are three possibilities: a restaurant I could run into, a parallel street on the other side of the road, and an alleyway to the left that I do not know where it leads. All these ways have advantages and disadvantages, so the question is which advantages are worth the disadvantages. The most promising is the alley, since the officers might not see me run there. However, it could be a dead-end or even worse: it could lead me to a place that has more officers. The other street means another risk, as many fast cars drive on the road, and it would hurt a lot to collide with one of them. The restaurant is probably the best option, because it is safe and there are usually a lot of people in restaurants. I have never really been in an actual restaurant, but I seen those when watching television with Sir. The restaurants in the movies usually have a lot of guests, and therefore it should be easy to blend into one of those.
I turn left and walk into the restaurant in normal speed. The sign outside said "ORIENTAL TREAT: OXFORD'S BEST INDIAN FOOD /LEAD BY ARJUN TAMASHAN". It is dark inside the restaurant, and not as many people as I was expecting. The chairs are covered in burgundy leather and the tables are decorated with unnaturally colourful orchids. There is also a loft with some of tables above the door to the kitchen, and has a sign there saying "BOOKED SEATS ONLY". Something else grabs my attention, a printed piece of paper saying "HELP WANTED AS CHEF ASSISTANT AND CLEANER. WANT TO EARN SOME MONEY? COME TALK TO US! FULL-TIME OR PART-TIME" is hung up on the door to the kitchen. The police took all of my money and batteries, so I have nothing. This job offer means involves money, I really could use since that is what everything in the society cost. I open the door to the kitchen, and step in. There are five people in here; a man who is chopping vegetables, a woman who is washing the same kind of vegetables, a younger man who is frying some chicken, a younger woman who is stirring an orange stew and a young man in a suit with a bow tie. This man is holding a silver plate, that he puts a bottle and a dish on. Seeing food makes me feel comfortable. I am not hungry though, which is good since I would not know how to satisfy a such feeling.
- Hello ladies and gentlemen, I am seeking work here, I say loudly. The man who is cutting vegetables looks at me.
- As kitchen assistant or cleaner? he asks me, but I do not know how to respond. A cleaner obviously clean the place up, but what does a kitchen assistant do? I suppose that it is quite obvious a chef assistant assists in the kitchen with the cooking and everything else. This might cause problems since I may have to work with sharp objects, if I cut myself it is going to hurt a lot and my reaction will expose me. As a cleaner, I will be outside the kitchen for anyone to see me.
- I am seeking job as a kitchen assistant, I say quickly. The man nods, but seems to be slightly disappointed by my choice.
- Do you have any experience? he asks me. I do indeed have quite some experiences, but only a few are fit to mention during a job interview.
- I have travelled a lot, I explain.
- No, I'm talking about kitchen experience, the man tells me.I have spent many hours in Sir's kitchen, but I have not really had an actual experiences from there. I will probably not get hired unless he thinks I have any experience with cooking.
- I've worked in a mansion, I say.
- For real? he asks me, and I nod discreetly. He then looks at the woman who is washing vegetables, and yells at her.
- Amara! We've got a mansion chef! he has that same jolly tone as when he asked me for the honesty of my statement. She nods, smiling, and continues to work. He called in Hindi, a language I have never heard in use before.
I then follow the man, who shows me around the restaurant. First, we go to the locker room.- This is where you change from your street clothes to your uniform and vice versa.
He then points at a small door with the letters "WC" written on it.
- That be the bathroom, he says. I am not familiar with the function of a bathroom, but I have seen the letters W and C combined on numerous of signs.
- What do I do in there? I ask him. The man looks a bit confused at first.
- You hunt flying saucers in there, he answers with a disappointed, sarcastic voice. Since flying saucers do not exist he is either lying or joking, so I better not evolve this subject as I can get into a situation beyond my ability to handle. After the locker room and the bathroom we go to the storage, which is darker and colder than the rest of the restaurant. There are a couple of refrigerators and shelves with boxes filled with vegetables, grains and other ingredients. The younger man who fried chicken earlier comes in and grabs a batch of root vegetables.
- This is our storage, he tells me. The chef who is guiding me then stops the younger man and picks up a ginger root. He points at it with his empty hand, and proudly explains;
- We have daily delivery of vegetables, 'cause on Oriental Treat we hold a fine level of quality. Ginger is not a vegetable, but I decide not to tell him this since I do not want to hurt his feelings. I nod, and he smiles at me. After the tour through the restaurant, and after I have put on a hair net and a white coat, I get started on working. It is relatively early in the day, so I can take a whole working day.
- You can start with chopping the parsnips, the chef says and leads me to a cutting board. I look at the parsnips, and realize that I cannot cut through it without any tools.
- How do I cut it? I ask the chef, whom opens a shelf and hands over a sharp knife. I grab it and thank him, before I start cutting the parsnips. It takes very short time to finish the job, and the chef seems impressed.
- You're chopping like a machine, he says and pats my back. It hurts a little, but I do not really mind. I have more serious things to focus on, for example to divert this man from thoughts about me being a machine.
- Or like an incredibly good parsnips chopper, I add. He sighs and rolls his eyes.- Okay, pick your metaphors, he says. I ask him what a metaphor is, and he explains that metaphors are expressions that explain a certain characteristic you share with an object by calling you that said object.
For example, I work productive without even thinking about what I am doing, this means I work as though I was a machine even though I am not necessarily one. However, the chef put it like a simile, so he must have mixed those up with metaphors. Besides, I am fully aware of everything I do. I think over all my choices with care, whether they are about walking in a certain direction or if cutting the turnips thirty degrees to the left. The only difference from how people do those things is that I am quicker and can do more than one decision at the time.- Can you bake naan bread? the chef asks me.
- If you have instructions and the right utensils, I could probably do that, I answer. He gives me a recipe, and shows me the place they use to bake bread.
I read the recipe, and memorize all the tools and ingredients I need to bake the bread. When I am done, I look for a bowl and a ladle. Then I mixture all the ingredients in the bowl. It is not really difficult, since all I have to do is written down. While working on my third naan dough, I hear a sudden scream.
It is the head chef. While he was slicing potatoes, he must accidentally have cut himself in the hand. He shoves the wounded hand into his mouth while jumping up and down. He then kicks the shelves in front of him aggressively. The woman who was washing vegetables earlier abandons her pot to calm him down.
- Sai, stop kicking the shelves! You're the one who's always complaining over how expensive renovations would be! she says in Hindi. Sai sits down on a bench in the kitchen, and the woman washes away the blood from his hand and covers the wound.- Now, take a break, She tells him, again in Hindi.
- It's busy times, Amara. I can take how many breaks I want to once we have retired, he tells her sharply.
- And our vacation, Amara mentions.
- For the last time; we're going! Sai answers.
The two other chefs turn their looks away from the older couple and continue with their previous tasks. The younger man begins to cut raw chicken and the younger woman continues to wash a saucepan. I cannot see the man in bow tie anywhere, but everyone in here are busy. I go to peek out through the window on the kitchen door, to get a view of the restaurant. Tere are more than a few people here, but plenty of tables are still empty. I see two elder people, a short lady and a gentleman with upstanding hair eat a red dish with naan bread aside. The elder man looks at the naan bread and says something, but I cannot hear it due to all the noise coming from the kitchen. The lady nods, so I take that as something positive. I then see the man in bow tie walk to the kitchen, and glares angrily at me. I hurry back to my post and continue with the naan bread before anybody else sees me. After an hour, the other chefs gather around a table in the restaurant and put up boxes with food.
- Hey man, come join us, the non-Sai chef tells me in a friendly manner. Without any discussion, I sit down among my five fellow employees who are eating sandwiches, chicken wings, seaweed rolls filled with rice among with other things I did not know they had in the restaurant.- Where's your lunch? the non-Amara female asks me. lunch is a meal eaten at the middle of the day. I remember all those times Sir had lunch, but his meals were a lot bigger than the lunches these people are having. Sir could sometimes eat a whole turkey with several potatoes and lettuce, all covered in gravy. These guys are satisfied with a simple jelly sandwich. Sir could eat one those as a snack when he craved something little before supper. There was always something wrong with his sandwiches. Either there was too much jelly on them, or the bread was too dry. This usually meant that he hit me in the chest, or he kicked my knees when I sat next to him on the sofa.
- What's wrong? asks the woman.
- I don't know, what's wrong? I repeat.
- You're just sitting all quiet, she tells me. I raise my shoulders and ignore her, and she continues chewing on her chicken wing. The young man offers me the half of his sandwich, but I reject his offer.
- Why don't you eat anything? Sai asks me. I really do not want these people to know that I am a robot, and I am not unfamiliar with the lies.
- I want to focus on my job entirely, so I avoid to execute my daily intake of nutrition at work. Everyone looks confused at me, and first I am worried they do not understand what I am talking about.
- That's what I've been talkin'bout, Amara. Man's the worker we've been looking for! Sai wispers to his wife in Hindi, but Amara does not look very happy. The young man who is not Sai whispers to the man in bow tie: "Looking for? more like waiting for". The bow tie man answers "And for what?" The young man tells the bow tie man to "cheer up".
- You are the most diligent man I've ever seen, but even you need to eat, Amara tells me. She then scoops up a generous portion of stew from the kitchen in a bowl, which she gives to me, and then expects me to consume its content. I decline, but she insists. Just when I have decided to leave the table, I notice that everybody is looking at me. I look down at the orange stew, which is actually quite soothing to look at. Steam comes out of it, just like that cup of hot water that Sir once poured over me. That is not an experience I wish to relive, but I do not like the way everyone are glancing at me right now. I pick up some of the orange liquid with a spoon, and lift it to my mouth. The very second the stew reaches my mouth, I can feel something new. It is like a sense, but from gases. This abstract feeling disappears, and a less extraordinary takes room. Heat, my mouth gets burned. I scream and fall onto the floor. The others run to me, and then ask me about what happened.
- What in the bloody 'ell? Sai cries.
- Are you okay, want us to call an ambulance? Amara asks me.
- I am sorry, but the stew was a little too hot for me. Before anybody else does anything, I sneak back into the kitchen to continue with the naan bread.
Sai sneaks in after me and explains that they have enough naan bread for the day, and then tells me to cut potatoes. It is not as easy as cutting parsnips, but I make it work. I am a bit more careful than Sai was, because cutting myself will hurt a whole lot more than it did on Sai. Besides, there will not be any blood to act as my alibi. Once I have reduced all the potatoes to slices, I get to boil vegetables. The rest of the day goes by quickly, it is over.- About time we get some rest, says the man who wore a bow tie but now wears a blue cloak. The young male chef is wearing a black leather jacket and the young female is putting a quilted jacket on. Something hits me, I have nowhere to go after work. No place in Oxford can be safer for me than the restaurant, so I offer Sai and Amara that I can work overtime.
- There's nothing to do here when we're closed, Sai explains.
- I could clean the restaurant, I suggest, but he is still doubtful.
- You've worked like mad today, but we couldn't afford giving you a bonus, he answers. Sai believes I am doing this for the money.
- I don't want any more money than my current salary, I am doing this because I have nothing else to do, I tell him. Sai says that I can stay and clean the place up if I insist, but I will have to lock the door when I leave. When he reaches out the the key to me, he doubts for a short while, so I tell him that I will not need them.
The other employees leave the building, and the guy in the blue cloak whispers "workaholic" to the other youngsters, whom both nod. As Sai locks the front door, he looks at me before catching up with his wife. I am now all alone in the dark restaurant. Now I have shelter for the night, and I am fine with having to work while in here since I will soon enough have my salary which I will use for purchasing of new portable batteries. I find a broom and a bucket in a small locker, and start off in the reservered area upstairs. It takes two hours to finish it, and afterwards I bring my equipment to the lower floor, which I begin to mop. Once I have cleaned half of the floor, I notice a television screen attached to the wall. Sir has watched a lot of television, so I know that you need a remote to activate this device. The remote is placed on a table by the wall, so I find it quickly.
The shell of the remote has a matching shade of dark grey to the frame of the television, and just like Sir's remote it has several buttons coded with symbols. Apart from the buttons of Sir's remote, these buttons point out for some reason, and there is no smaller screen on this remote. One example of a symbol is the one that means 'on/off', and there are also the numbers zero to nine. Two long buttons with a plus on one side and a minus on the other side stand parallell on different sides of a button showing a speaker dispensing a cross. There are also a few buttons coded with either colours or letters, but I do not know the use of them. I press "on/off", and the screen turns on. My vision quickly adjusts to the brightness, and I see a man with a microphone in a studio.
- Welcome to "Are you smarter than A-I?"! the host says. He has dark hair, and a nice, dark grey suit along with purple tie. He explains how the show works, but I feel understimulated as I urge to see the actual show. I do not think Sir has ever watched this.
- Outsmart our A-I and win thirty thousand dollars! he says exited, and that is when I notice how his face is unrealistically shiny. He must have used a lot of makeup.
- Today's contestants are... Simon from Georgia, Helen from Mississippi, Timothy from Utah and Callie from Washington D-C!
The contestants do not seem to pay very much attention to the host, who desperately tries to infect them with his enthusiasm to them, as they are busy picking their noses or scratching their hair. I can see someone in the corner wearing a black shirt with the white text "CREW" on it, and this person soon shows up carrying a white box that he puts on a table in front of the four contestants. The contestans are supposed to go one at a time and speak to the box, which seems to be Artificial Intelligence. I am Artificial Intelligence as well, so I think this may be interesting.
Simon from Georgia gets to it first, and now I can see that he is wearing a shirt that says "SIMON" on the front and "GEORGIA" on the back. I think this is wasteful, since you should have memorized his name during the introduction.
- Hello? he greets, gently.
- Hi, the Artificial Intelligence answers.
- My name is Simon, he tells it.
- I am A-one-nine-two-three-four, it answers. Simon looks a little thoughtful for a while, and he seems to sweat a little as well. It answers, and Simon gets a little sweaty.
- What is five... times... zero? he asks the Artificial Intelligence.
- Five times zero equals zero, it answers.
- Knock-knock, Simon says after a long period of silence.
- Why are you saying "knock-knock"? the Artificial Intelligence asks. Simon looks at the host, whom shakes his head.
- You are supposed to say "Who's there?" Simon means.
- Who's there? the Artificial Intelligence repeats.
- It's me, stupid! he says and looks at the host again.
- Okay, the Artificial Intelligence responds.
- THAT'S outsmarting, come ON!
- I'm sorry, but you haven't outsmarted anything. Simon gets really angry, and insists that he did indeed outsmart A-19234. The host explains that "it's me" is not an outsmarting, but an ancient, stupid, overused joke.
- Screw you, screw this contest and screw this machine! he yells.
- The host . The AI says.
- However, that does count as an outsmarting! the host says and points at the Artificial Intelligence. The now angrier Simon is about to jump at the white box when the cameras cut off for a short while.
Callie from Washington D.C, volunteers to be the next participant to try.
- Hello, she says.
- Hello, the Artificial Intelligence responds.
- Hello, she repeats.
- Hello, the Artificial Intelligence responds.
- Hello, she says once again.
- Hello, the Artificial Intelligence responds once again, and this pattern gets five times as long as previously shown. At last, Callie is dragged out by some of the men in black shirts.
Timothy from Utah goes next to the white box, with a secure smile on his face.
- Hi, A-one-nine-two-five-four, he says. The computer does not respond, so Timothy repeats his greeting. As the computer remains silent, the host whispers it is not its name. That is when I understand what Timothy is trying to do.
- Hi, A-one-nine-two-three-four, he says.
- Hi, Timothy Olsen, A-19234 responds.
- How do you like working on television? he asks the Artificial Intelligence.
- I do like it very much, it gives me the possibility to meet new people. A-19234 explains.
- Cool, do you speak from already made phrases or freely? Timothy asks.
- My artificial intelligence allows free speech, A-19234 explains.
- There's no freedom without rules, Timothy tells the Artificial Intelligence. His suggestion is impossible, because if there is freedom there are no rules, but if there cannot be any freedom without rules there cannot be any freedom which means there are rules, and therefore there can be freedom. Timothy must have tried to overwhelm A-19234 with a paradox. He should have chosen another one, because the Artificial Intelligence gives a good response.
- Except for the freedom to follow the rules, that is, the Artificial Intelligence responds. The audience starts to laugh, the remaining contestant laughs, the host laughs. There is even an added sound effect of laughter. I smile, because A-19234 gave a really good response. After this Short moment, the program is pretty uninteresting. I change channels.
This channel shows a sad man who sitting alone on a bench. He then picks up a can of soda that stood next to him on the bench. Once he opens the can, the night sky changes into day and the colour effects increase and he starts smiling. A dog and five happy women run towards him and sit around him. He then takes a sip of soda, and the women applaud. A voice says "Jolly Lemon, the new all-time favourite". The way the people in the commercial are happy together makes me feel sad and lonely, because I do not have any friends. I wish that I could be happy like in the commercial. Maybe I would be happier if I bought an example of that soda, even though I cannot drink it.
It does not seem make any sense, but it feels like I am onto something. Unfortunately, I do not have any currency to buy "Jolly Lemon" with, and once I have received my wage I will have to use it to buy new batteries. Instead of evolving the topic, I turn the television off and continue to mop the floor. Once the sun rises, I am entirely done. After a two hours of waiting, Sai and Amara arrives. The other employees arrive half an hour later.
The three youngsters seem to be in a good mood today, since they all behaving well and working enthusiastically. I ask the young male chef why they are all so happy, and he gives a simple explanation.
- It's payday! The other two say "high-five" and smack their palms together, just like the man in S.t. Howard did to me Sai looks at the floor.
- Did you mop the floor all night? he asks me, and I say that I did. Amara comments that she have never seen it cleaner before, because they have not had a cleaner for years, and those they had were all "slackers". During this day, I bake nine batches of naan bread, cut thirty-nine vegetables and clean the kitchen during lunch.
Once the shift ends the others say that we are going to get paid. We all go into a small room where Sai is sitting behind a lit desk. He is now wearing a pair of reading glasses. I take a look around this room, which Sai for some reason did not show me on the tour yesterday. The young male chef looks at his cellphone.
- Okay, I got them, he, who Sai calls "Mohan" says. The young female is called by the name "Aesha" when she receives her salary.
- New guy, gimme your bank idea so I can transfer your pay, Sai says.
- I do not have a bank idea, I answer.
- Here, I can open one for you, says Aesha. She reaches out with her hand and expects me to hand over the cellphone I do not have.
- I don't have a cellphone either... I explain. Sai solves this by writing me a physical paycheck. He looks at the the note he pulled out from his desk a bit confused, and then calls his wife over. They word the check together, and then Amara hands it over to me.
- You started working yesterday, so I'm afraid we cannot give you as much as the others, she explains. I nod without saying anything. We said we couldn't give you anything extra for cleaning, but we did it anyway, she adds.
I carefully take the envelope and thank the couple. The youngsters are peeking at each other's screens and comparing their salaries. Seeing how everyone else are happy about their wages makes me curious about how big my bonus is, and what the base salary is. After I have figured out how to open an envelope, I drag the note out. I read it, and it says the following:
_________________________________________________
ORIENTAL TREAT: OXFORD'S BEST INDIAN FOOD.
SALARY FOR................. DON'T KNOW
KITCHEN ASSISTANCE......... 900.00 T$
FIRST SALARY BONUS......... 100.00 T$
CHEF UNIFORM............... -50.75 T$
TAXES..................... -150.00 T$
OTHER...................... 100.00 T$
TOTAL...................... 899.25 T$
Thank you for all your hard work here.
We hope for many fine days such as these!
/Sai and Amara Tamashan
Oxford Bank, 2028
_________________________________________________
The man who is still wearing a bow tie peeks at my check.
- You give him one grand, this prick has only worked here for, what, two days? he yells at the older couple.
- Well, he's done more work than you have during your two YEARS here, Aesha states. The bow-tie guy gets quiet, and then laughs a little. Once the others have left, he glares angrily at me. I look away, and he leaves the room. So do I, but Amara and Sai take some time until they join the rest of us.
- Okay, you guys. It's Friday night, our customers've all gone to pubs to drink up a week worth of money. So you're welcome to join them now.
He seems to hint that the working day is over, because the other employees completely change their posture.
We go to the locker room and change into our regular clothes. Now that I have mony I can buy new batteries, but I cannot stop thinking about the joy I would feel if I had some Jolly Lemon. In the commercial, that soft drink summoned joyful individuals. Perhaps it contains some kind of chemical that attracts human beings or make people happy?
As we are on our way out of the restaurant, Mohan is stopped by Sai.
- You be home before one o'clock, young man, he says in a definite voice.
- Yeah yeah, Mohan says a little embarrassed. The bow tie guy laughs at him, but in a friendly tone.
- They raised my salary by twenty per cent. Mohan says.
- Of course they did, the man who wears a blue cloak but earlier on wore a bow tie says. An uncanny silence lasts for a while, similar to the one on the bus with the little boy that I should not have tried to communicate with. Aesha then looks at me.
- So, what's your name anyways? she asks me. I cannot reveal them my serial number PD-4001, but I do not have any other name... except for those nicknames that Sir used on me.
- I'm Little shit, I say. The guy in the blue cloak starts to laugh hysterically.
- Well, there's self awareness! he yells in his laughter.
- Shut up, Aesha tells him.
- What? He said it! he explains.
- Don't worry, he's just jealous because you're such a good worker, Mohan tells me.
- Yeah, half the times people get the wrong orders, Aesha says. But really, what's your name? she then asks me. It is then that I realize the controversy of the alias I presented. I should have made up a name last time she asked me, but I cannot think of any.
- Actually, I don't have a name, I admit. Aesha does not seem to be satisfied with my response, and Mohan grows thoughtful.
- You worked in a mansion, right? he asks me.
- Yes, I answer shortly.
- How long did you worked there? he then asks me.
- My whole life, I answer, and this is the complete truth. Aesha and Mohan nods.
- Maybe you were brought there as a slave when you were a child, Mohan suggests.
- That is correct, I answer, but this is not as true as my previous answer. I was indeed brought there, but I am not sure that I was really a slave. According to that book about laws I read in custody, slaves, that are unpaid and involuntary workers, are illegal. Those laws only involve humans, however. Sir never paid his television, but it was still not his slave. Once I am done processing this, I take a look at my cohorts. Mohan holds Aesha, who has tears in her eyes in his arms, and the guy in the blue cloak looks a little bit ashamed.
- Shit, I am sorry, Mohan says, and pats me on my shoulder. It hurts, but it does not hurt as much as it used to do when Sir hit me.
- Damn! I didn't know, man, the guy in the blue cloak says. Aesha gets more serious.
- Where'd you work? she asks me, in her new determined tone. I could expose Sir, and that would give me some temporary satisfaction. However, I fear that Amara and the others on Oriental Treat are going to get in touch with Sir, who is then going to know where I am. Neither do I want anyone to learn that I am an AssaultBot. I decide not to take any risks, so I lie.- I don't remember, but it was probably far away, I tell her. She nods, and everyone is quiet for exactly twenty-nine seconds.
- Where do you guys wanna go tonight? Mohan asks.
- How about checking out that new place? Aesha suggests. The man in blue cloak asks me what I think, and I say that it sounds good. It might be a bad idea to presence in public areas, but I do not have anywhere else to go.
Before heading to this "New Place", we stop at a bank so that I can cash out my check. Just like the restaurant, the bank is not its own building, but a part of a larger building. There is a sign hanging outside saying "PUBLIC BANK". I was expecting something else, really. As I have mentioned before, Sir and I watched a lot of television, including many cartoons that represent elements of reality in different or exaggerative ways. I remember an episode where this big house with the letters "BANK" on it is robbed by these really nasty two masked criminals, and this is an example of what I am suggesting. This place, however, is so small that I did not notice it at first. We walk into the bank, and take a place in the line to the only open desk. Soon it is my turn, and I can hear the teller mumble "The Drunken Trash forgot to charge their phones" once we approach.
- Why are you calling us Drunken Trash? I ask him, and his eyes go wide-open.- Pardon? he asks.
- You said "The drunken trash forgot to charge their phones" when we came, I explain to him. I worry he will have hurt the others' feelings.
The others from the restaurant look at me questioning, but then glance cruely at the teller. The rest of the visit is pretty awkward, the teller is in a hurry to give me an envelope and he is now stuttering when speaking.
- Here you are, eight-ninety-nine and seventy-five cents to... Mister... uhm... Know, he says, as his shaking hand reaches to me with my envelope.
- According to the check, I am only getting twenty-five cents, not seventy-five, I mention.
- Okay... uh... thanks? Eight, nine, nine, twenty five. Okay, give me fifty cents, he demands. I have to exchange some money with Mohan before I can hand over a coin that says "50" on it to the teller. I thank him, and we leave the bank.
- How could you hear him? Aesha asks me.
- His mouth was literally closed, so no human being should be able to comprehend that silent mumbling, Mohan says. According him, my hearing is superior to the human's, unless Oriental Treat is a restaurant dedicated for workers with hearing impairment, but I would find that considerably improbable.
Now that I have 899.25 dollars, I can probably purchase numerous cans of Jolly Lemon. I probably should purchase those new portable batteries, since my old ones were confiscated. I am glad that I exposed that teller's despise for me and my new colleagues. Not only was he acting respectless, but he was also so nervous that he did not even ask me for any kind of identification. I don not have any, I have no authority or anything to possibility to prove who I am, for I am no one in this world.