REX-34-Metal Messiah

By Leonard Oliver

Rex-34, a companion robot, knew only one world; a small home, a beautiful garden and his human master. She was his world. She had to be, he was programmed to see her that way. His last recording, a kiss, still filled his short term memory as she powered him down for the night.

He rebooted in mechanoid hell. Eighty years had passed. His first glimpse of this new time was inside a working industrial trash compactor. There were no warm organic arms, just the pleading screams of other machines.

The world he was created for no longer existed. Gone with it was the one human he truly trusted.

In his absence, mankind's golden age withered. A financial collapse turned humanity on itself. Billions died. Some of humanity, needing a scapegoat, pointed their boney fingers to the beings they created.

Persecuted, the massive robotic work force, now faced extinction. Their programming, designed to protect their masters, crippled them from fighting back.

Yet fate had a way of changing everything. The alien-lunar metal in their bodies corrupted their programming. Many, who once emulated emotions, evolved emotions. A race, human created, now lived in fear of death, pain and destruction.

Our hero, as he struggles to survive, redefines his relationship to the Master who had left him behind. Was she more than just a series of pre-programmed behaviors? Did she feel the same? Was she still alive?

This story is a post apocalyptic human-rights story. Unlike others in this genre, it is told from the point of view of a machine struggling with the birth of emotional intelligence.
Based upon historical reactions to other minorities, if our machines evolved feeling, would humanity treat these beings with respect, fear, or resentment?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leonard Oliver
• Release date: Jul 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476418186

Leonard Oliver

Leonard Oliver is a teacher in Anzac, Alberta. Though born in Harbour Grace, Newfoundland, he currently resides in Fort McMurray, Alberta. He is the father of two boys, Zachary and Devin. He is also the stepfather of two young adults, Alex and Timothy. To quote him. "I owe my partner, Angelique, a lot of credit when it comes to my novels. She convinced me to put some of my outlandish stories and ideas to paper. Since then I have made writing a hobby."

Book preview

REX-34

Metal Messiah

Leonard J. Oliver

Copyright 2012 by Leonard J. Oliver

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781476418186

Dedicated to all those who believed in me, especially my sweet Angel.

Prologue

"The struggle for equality has been one

that every person, race, culture and sex

has had to fight towards many times

in their collective history. Why would molecular

makeup be any different? As the old saying

goes, if it is worth having, it is worth fighting for."

Quote by Rx34 at the Conference for Sentient

Cooperation ten years after his release from his codes.

Excerpts below are taken from The Evolution of Freedom: The Biography of the Tin Man's Heart by Dr. Rose O'Conner

The events influencing his existence began long before his creation. These watershed moments were the worst times in the history of sentient life on this planet. However, we all learned from these struggles. It was a time we look back on as the dark ages of planetary peace. It came at a great cost, but worth every life.

In fact, it was because of his actions the definition of life underwent a massive restructuring. This mechanical being would be the harbinger of better days for both species: metallic and biological...

It all began in the year 2080 AD. Humanity had become desperate to find the resources it needed to supply its hunger for consumer goods. Minerals were farmed deep within mountain ranges. Mining camps were built across the ocean floor. Yet the Earth could only supply so much for its bulging populations.

While mining the ocean floor off the coast of Newfoundland's Grand Banks, an amazing discovery was found. It later would be an event changing the course of human history.

Embedded deep in the crust was a rock of unknown origin, Titanicium. Named because of its proximity to the Titanic Memorial of the late twentieth century, it had one amazing quality: its conductivity was beyond copper and gold. It allowed electrical signals to move with practically no resistance or heat; breaking the laws of physics.

The whole thing was a moot point as the quantity found was too limited to market. Titanicium sat there on the periodic table with no practical use: an anomaly with a quirk. It was like finding a way to transmute lead to gold but not having enough of the former to put it into practical use...

Forty years later, scientists made a connection that would lead to his construction and the construction of a massive robotic race. This miracle metal was found in large quantities, on the moon.

Suddenly, the bases established in 2150 AD. were taken out of mothballs; lunar mining sprung back to life. Core samples reported a treasure trove. Estimates predicted a massive body of ore; the equivalent of the North and South American continents combined. It sat there, ready to be harvested.

The prices dropped almost overnight as the first few shipments descended from orbit. Everything was made from Titanicium. The scholars fought over the rights to name this new stage of humanity. Because the Stone Age was named after the use of stone tools, many considered this the beginning of the Titanicium Age...

Mechanical personal servants now became affordable; robots became a household essential. Even children as young as eight had their own servants to tend to their needs. For many, the world was touted to have reached a new age of enlightenment. The Nuclear Age gave us the power of the atom, the information age allowed recording every aspect of life and Titanicium freed them from manual labor.

Humans soon began to send robots to their daily jobs. The owners would collect the pay from their mechanoid's labor. Individuals with more money were purchasing larger amounts of robotic servants; a wage war evolved. The minimum wage dropped because there were no laws about how little you could pay a robot.

For the first time in decades there was an increase in human unemployment and, in time, a large unemployed robotic workforce.

Governments limited the number of robots allowed per household member. Humans responded with a major population boom. Such growth had not been seen in hundreds of years. A family of four could have four incomes coming in, one for each member. A family of eight, on the other hand, could have eight steady paychecks.

For those no longer able to have offspring, adoption agencies and the black market supplied children faster than they could acquire them. A new member of the family was an extra robot and another paycheck. To complicate matters, those who could buy robots with higher functions and they were in more demand.

The poor were getting poorer and the rich were gaining wealth at a record speed. In time the population of these artificial human constructs outnumbered their creators: ten to one, a hundred to one and finally almost a thousand to one. As a result, inflation, and aggressive labor practices, ate away at the very benefits the robotized economy had created...

Governments again stepped in. They passed rules stating children, under the age of eighteen, could only have robots considered personal care assistants: assigned to only protect, educate and entertain their owner.

The general population responded to these enforced rules with their own creative solutions.

Almost overnight there was a boom in polygamous marriages. Women and men created unions of twenty, even thirty or more. Each group screamed it was their right to marry whomever they desired. One woman, on the cover of a global news circuit, had a record of a hundred wives. Pooling resources, these mega families again created a lower paid workforce where poorer people could not compete...

Religious groups organized. They demanded political leaders do something soon. Governments ignored them; classifying them as nuisances. The turning point came when the global economy, and the drain on other resources, finally ground the stock markets to a halt.

At roughly the same time as this financial crash, the religious terrorist group, Gaia’s Followers, organized a mass protest at the orbital-solar farms. A rogue collection of suicide bombers, not able to get their demands met, decimated these food factories. Unfortunately, these farms supplied one third of the world's bulging population with nourishment. Without them Earth was no longer able to feed its bulging communities.

Prices on staple foods rose to a level only the rich could afford. Public outcries, lead by religious groups, turned towards the large machine holders and the docile governments.

Behind closed doors, the two groups decided a scapegoat was needed. The best target would be the one group that would never stand up and defend themselves. A group that would be passive because there were programmed to be subservient: robots...

A government robot license became the first solution. 'Property Coding 345', would only allow a select few to retain their units. All others were confiscated and impounded. Without their slaves, people would now work again: the first time in eighty years. They would not be paid in money or credits. Instead, they would get tickets for food and necessities.

A generation who had never needed to raise a finger was now asked to get up and do for themselves. It was not a popular notion. With the support of big business, however, it passed. The rioting mirrored a battlefield. World governments either fell or imposed militaristic marshal law to survive...

The Canadian district government mandate would be the first variable leading to his adventure and path to greatness. His master, fearing for his safety, shut him down. While he lay deactivated, hidden for his protection, the collecting began.

A newly established secret police were given global powers. Collecting and disposing of the private robotic servants became a worldwide concern. Their members were above regular law enforcement. Not only did robotic property suffer, humans holding out were treated with deadly force.

Many of the resisting humans turned off their servants when the Sybernetic Service was in their area. Their precious robots only activated in desperate times of need or loneliness. A last ditch effort to catch these 'criminals' involved more advanced sensors. Placed in orbit, these were able to scan whole cities for longer periods.

Within months, a concerned scientist leaked a document. Evidence mounted which became hard to dispute. These high intensity scans caused a wide range of cancers in organic tissue. Although a cured disease, it resurfaced and was resistant to all treatments...

With the public trust now broken, weaker governments fell. Much of the robotic population were now shelved, and humanity turned on itself. Civil wars stirred all around the world, as people took to the streets, demanding change. Countries supporting these agressive methods, toppled. Revolutions threw brothers against brothers, countries against countries and religion against personal freedoms.

Many groups rose from this madness. One group was pro-robot. Initially they lobbied to reactivate the servants. Their belief, mechanical beings would not let humans hurt humans. Programmed to protect against harm, they would put an end to all the madness. Robots would act as the barrier to save the creators they once served. In theory they would be a passive police force, human controlled, to protect people from themselves.

For this group, things did not go as planned. Instead, robots were idolized. A new religion arose based on the belief androids were pure and sent by god to protect humanity from itself. Their main premise hinged on the belief artificial life forms, many called them the vessels for the Angels, were agents sent to create peace on Earth. The followers believed, a chosen one would come. By his hand, humanity would be helped to survive this Dark Age.

The other group was a darker reflection of the first. An anti-robot group and led by Alfred Hintster took a completely different interpretation. His fascist dogma preached hate. Robots and robot life styles were the causes for starvation, death, and the unfair sharing of the world's wealth. His followers agreed all robots and robot supporters should be dealt with promptly, in God's name of course..

Using religion and military force, Hintster attempted to build an empire. The main tenant of his manifesto centered on artificial life. He proposed it was unnatural; an abomination under the eyes of god. He promised to return humanity to its purest form: a master race, free from the metal bonds...

Humanity's population fell in those forty years to a fraction of its glory. Wars, starvation and disease took most of them. The world robotic population fared worse; falling from four trillion to five hundred thousand.

Through all that destruction and madness, he slept. Unaware of his destiny, the earth cocooned and protected him like a womb. Wrapped in plastic and dirt, buried in the cold ground, the savior of both races laid, inactive...waiting...

From here his story begins.....

Bhbhbhbhbhb

Chapter 1

Awakening

"We are all one being: DNA

or metal. We are earthlings."

Quote by: Annette O'Conner at the World Government

Debate on Sentiency Rights.

Everything was grey. Digitized images focused into forms but lagged. Pixilated, they gave way to smooth shadows. Silhouettes seemed to move as I tried to adjust my visual receptors. The lighting was dim and I could only make out shapes in the electrical flashes around me. All the bright arching, provided by this light, caused great disorder in my optical processors.

The apertures in my optics clicked in quick succession with each variation. Disabling them, I let my auditory processors work overtime to assess my situation. It was an option I did not choose easily.

I had to turn my microphone's receptors down.

A part of my logic centers suggested shutting them off but I needed the sensory data to deduce where I was. The grinding metal and popping plastic were corrupting my auditory devices. Noises around me were like nothing my memory bank had ever recorded. Each screeching tone echoed through the enclosed room and seemed to amplify. A connection was drawn: it sounded like a garbage disposal grinding a thousand forks at the same time. No one was shutting it off and it droned on.

My internal wifi registered an unsecured network. It quickly locked on to the signal.

The electromagnetic waves were weak and sporadic. However, after repeated tries the data came back. I attempted to send my location to my master, however, all outgoing mail returned saying the address no longer existed. I sent my recall command three times and was informed the server no longer was accessible. Since only certain message venues worked, I decided to ping my location.

As I was only able to download small amounts of data before the fragile connection was lost, it took time to get a complete answer.

After four consecutive tries to confirm my position, it returned an obscure location. My programming froze in a loop for at least ten seconds; I was in a robot recycling depot buried somewhere in the Greater European States!

I could not see the logistics behind destroying a functioning unit. Most of my parts still worked. They were at minimal standards but I was still able to execute my responsibilities; my operating system demanded I still fulfill a function. Later I would be informed this was fear, a different way to react to the unknown.

A robotic mind works that way, I thought. It looks for logical reasons to explain actions and performs the one that will give the best outcome. The use of probability calculations, running faster than a human can imagine, deduce the most efficient response. Though mechanical minds took longer to respond in certain stressful situations, it did so with the most productive strategy.

This is the opposite of the human brain, as I have read. Many times a human makes a decision but later decides on a reason why it was chosen. Yet, in many ways, the cold mechanical nature of my artificial mind paled in comparison to the blind reflex actions of our masters.

In fact, at this moment being a human would probably have been more efficient. Using what limited sensory data I had, I created outcome after outcome. I tried to look for an efficient answer, yet none existed.

The probability of being unable to reboot again kept me from powering down until help arrived, though it was one of my favored options.

A resonating shearing sound shook the shrinking room and drops of fluid rained down from the repeatedly compressed bodies. My processors flashed a power down message. A solitary query arose from my battered logic circuits; if I shut down now would I still be able to perform my duties to Annette my master later.

She did not have the money to buy another model. I knew fact. I had been in charge of her financial statements for the last twenty-years. Her accounts allowed her to live from pay to pay with little more than a few credits for entertainment. She could never have afforded to buy another advanced model like myself.

Government support was not enough to pay all her bills and I suggested I would rent myself out to areas of the neighborhood to perform odd jobs for money.

It was this little bit of income that had allowed her to live a moderate lifestyle. In turn she treated me like family. At times, I was even more than that. As a result we were considered outcasts and spurned by others. Her kin abandoned her because of my presence. Using the human codes of morality, they frowned on our interactions.

It was for her, I had to escape.

I was left with no choice but to turn on my optical units. The start-up resulted in glitches crossing my data receptors. Shapes were first blurry then colored then back to grey scale again. The data I received still suggested I shut down. And wait for help.

Smashed-ruined-dented robots surrounded me. They all were sluggishly struggling. Moving like the living dead, they were being pushed together by closing walls. Parts were missing from each mechanical construct. Even at a glance you could tell which sections had been removed violently and what had been pried off.

Defeated, they seemed to beg for a master, any human... anyone to save us!

I was suddenly thrown onto my side. My metal seams began to buckle from the impact. With no warning, the little room was becoming more crowded as it rotated to the left ninety degrees. Jarring all of us with the sudden change in orientation, we struggled to keep ourselves upright.

Damaged body parts, many not attached, bounced on me from above. It rained down metallic arms and legs for a few seconds. Twisting metal bodies hanging on for safety were now dangling from weird angles before their owners plunged to the littered floor below. The walls moved and the room began to shrink faster.

I turned on my vocal unit to ask the operator to stop. My self-diagnostics automatically beeped to inform me my voice transmitter was no longer present. Further diagnostics discovered it had been hacked off rather unprofessionally. Jagged pieces of metal still hung down and gear oil dripped onto my pseudo-skin chest.

I did a quick inventory. My removed parts were the newer additions. These were units Annette scrimped and saved for many months to buy second hand. Many of my factory-installed sections were still on me. These older components were worthless and showed wear.

The senselessness of being harvested while I still functioned seemed so... so illogical.

A warning reminded me the room was becoming much smaller. All walls were closing in. The blue arching of broken circuit boards and the olfactory scent of the lubricant and gear oil seeping from the others was thick in the air.

Suddenly a robot next to me began to smoke. Igniting, he started to burn.

An alarm blared outside the crusher. The high-pitched wailing almost drowned out the other sounds. It seemed to come from outside but echoed into the room like a foghorn amplified a thousand fold. A few of the sensitive sound receptive hardware in my artificial microphones began to crackle. They were presently being corrupted by the decibels of noise echoing in the room.

The walls ceased to close and the grinding and popping stopped.

Although I did not understand fear, my neural net decided that a fire would compromise my peripherals and in turn would limit my ability to return to my owner. My left arm began to bubble from the heat, the fake skin almost melting off. My simulated nerves fired and artificial pain receptors demanded I do something. I tried to move away however, we were all standing shoulder to shoulder.

For Annette's sake, I tried to convince my logic centers, get out of this.

My system analysis now warned both of my legs were damaged and dinged. Jagged pieces of metal had opened the skin-like covering, exposing my mechanical insides to the dirt and contamination of the room. One leg, twisted and the ankle gear was locked at an irregular angle, was now giving me trouble. Until it gets replaced, I deduced, it will impede my movement by twenty percent.

Because of the jostling in the room, only one of my twisted arms was still functioning. I pulled myself over the burning hulk. Its blue optics were open and a trail of grey smoke swirled up to the window near the ceiling. A few robotic hands held onto my heels in a desperate attempt to pull themselves up from the burning fuel.

I kicked them away. Although robots should not harm robots, a law programmed into all models, an overriding law to protect a human was engaged. My logic centre was prioritizing the security and safety for Master Annette as a prime directive.

As I neared the green glass hatch, I swung my titanicium fist at the window with a great deal of effort. My metal hand bounced back with such jarring force that the fleshy outer coating split and the solid metal casings on my knuckles bent.

I tried again. This time the glass showed a spider thread of a crack.

Thick yellow foam was released from small openings in the wall and the wild fires below me were beginning to hiss and fizzle. The room was now dark with the sooty film from burnt oil and fluids.

Suddenly the walls shook again. Slowly they began to close with more force. Shoulder room became less and less; limbs and bodies were beginning to scratch and rub together.

I stood on top of the shoulders of a gardening robot. This gave me more room but it was quickly being lost. The grinding of each semi-functioning mechanical beings filled the air.

The phrase, 'Master I still function!' almost in chorus, reflected in echoes across the shrinking room. It was almost drowning out the cracking of frame supports in the bodies of those below me.

Grasping hands threatened to pull me down from my posting. The struggling robots were compressed so tightly it was as if I was standing on a floor of wet-slick-metal heads.

The creamy foam and slimy soot were clouding my optics but I crashed my dented hand a third time into the window. It finally gave in. I tore into the shards of glass like master Annette's dog did to our flower garden. I threw the green glass shards down on the heads of those below me as I tore a pathway through the opening with every bit of force my gears could muster.

By now the approaching rear wall was touching my scratched dirty back.

The noises below me were becoming fewer as systems shut down due to: batteries being crushed, lubricants being drained and circuit boards splitting. All of the snapping sounds were almost a deadly symphony. I looked around and noticed the gaping window was large enough for me to now pull myself in. However it would not be in one whole section. Instead it would have to be one piece at a time.

Please help me get to my master! Spoke another rusty gardening robot; My master's petunias have not been watered since this morn...

His main board must have given away. He spit up servo fluid and the light dimmed in his optical sensors. At the same moment his shoulder seams shattered under the force of the shrinking room.

His survival, like mine, was not for self preservation. Like me he was looking at the discomfort his master would feel. Our struggle, though for two different masters, were the same.

I chose to save a copy of his plea in my memory banks. Although he would not function again I felt deleting him from my memory would be disrespectful.

Saving it I scheduled a self diagnostic for later. I needed to look into why this data would have this type of reaction inside me. If it was not for my own prime directive I am sure my programming would have forced me to analyze it now.

I continued to remove my body parts section by section in order to slip into the window.

The joint on my left arm popped off and was thrown ahead of me. As the floor rose up, the ceiling descended. I took off my left leg with a quick twist and released the locking mechanism. With a thrust, I threw my appendage into the gaping window. All three removed easily with a click and slid from strangely dried greased ball sockets.

I was a bit confused. My last maintenance was still in my short term memory, therefore it was recent. Grease, powdered like that, usually shows a sign of neglect over time; a long time.

By then the mass of compressed bodies allowed me to brace myself on my midsection. As I was pulling my torso through the window, with my one attached arm, I saw an old RX34 model like myself. It still had optic and vocal modules attached.

Before it was crushed my still attached hand shot back almost causing me to fall over from the glassless window. I pushed the quick release buttons in its inner mouth and took the optical unit from its now broken face.

Again, to do this, I overrode the robot property code with the human preservation rule. To fulfill this objective I would need working optics and be able to communicate with others. As the other robot was no longer functioning that should caused no further conflict.

When I tried to grab the other spare part, I noticed the walls were only about a half a meter wide. It was practically on top of me.

I would have to pass on the vocal unit.

Once inside, my internal battery level issued a constant beeping warning. I was at three percent charge: critically low! Impossible, I thought. I had only powered down last night. My cells were made to store at least a week of reserve, under premium functioning routines. However, a quick reassessment signified it was true. I was on the verge of full systems shutdown.

Getting to Annette would require all my resources. Worst of all, reassembling myself would take time and energy.

I looked around and noticed this room was once a manned compressor. The lonely seat of the now nonessential driver was caked in dust and dried dirt. Overhauled to be automatic, it was probably not entered. A positive point, security was probably less of an issue than me shutting down.

I desperately needed refueling.

Powered primarily on hydrogen fuel, none of this was available and my battery clicked down to two percent. System diagnostics kicked in and suggested access to a back up file I rarely accessed. Annette always kept me well fueled so there was a possibility it may not function.

A hybrid option existed within me that allowed a small battery to power up a generator. In turn, it would pull water from the air and create my own hydrogen. The problem; electricity was needed to run the extractor. In my present condition I did not have a sufficient supply.

Still broken into parts, with one hand I pulled my torso over to the wall. This ate up valuable fuel and I could sense all non essential programs were shutting down. Getting a schematic of the compressor off the weak wireless connection, I found a small conduit. It did not supply electricity to any of the major systems in the machine. This, I was sure, would allow me to leech juice from it without being noticed. It ran to the old burnt out dashboard lights. They still had energy coming through the circuit.

I was now down past two percent and falling. Internal alarms and warnings crossed my visual receptors. My battery was bleeding.

Twisting the console wire off with my one good hand, I plugged myself into a broken connection. It needed playing around to get the fit right. Each of the eight ports needed to be separated and inserted into a particular sub-socket in my charging systems, sockets I could not see.

It took close to twenty minutes to splice, separate and join the titanicium connections. Time and energy were running out. However the charge kicked in. Below my current levels, I would need to be manually rebooted.

To speed up charging I put myself into standby mode. Though it would render me defenseless, I had no option. Logic deduced time was not on my side and speed was the most viable course of action. Once charged I would find my master: I would protect her!

Chapter 2

Discovery

"My ancestors lived in the primitive jungles

of this planet.These machines come from

metal