The Soul Searching Robot

By Dennis King

At opposite ends of the underpass, two vagabonds began stirring. One was human, the other was not. Neither was aware of who else was lurking nearby. Last night both had sheltered among the rubble under the abandoned freeway. Each for the same provincial reason, to get out of the cold, mildly acidic rain.
As the early morning spears of sunlight peeled back last night’s damp cloaking, they warily and suspiciously eyed each other.
John, the unemployed human, moved with a stiffness that reflected the wear and tears of his hired-hand, working-class life had forced upon his body. From space, for almost twenty years, he was in charge of a single-man base-station. He directed the transfer of solar energy from a couple of dozen orbiters to the earthbound electro-distribution emplacement points. Pumping plasma through Earth’s ozone was an exhausting job.
The other being, obviously a robot, moved with a fluid strength that belied his many years of existence. Using his telescopic orb to survey the stranger, the android observed an unkempt man, thirty-five to forty, wearing the out-of-date uniform of a Spacetech. Increasing his orb's magnification, the robot noted with vivid clarity that the man’s attire was worn to shabbiness and unusually void of all expected insignia’s. In fact, after two adjustments to full amplification, he could even see inconspicuous holes where bygone stitching had left darted borders.
Normally, the electro-mechanical rouge would steer clear of humans, especially one apparently living such a suspiciously nomadic lifestyle. But this man seemed different. With reservations, the robot began to cautiously move forward—somehow drawn towards the human by the similarity of their fates.
Over a coffee and nothing else breakfast, the Spacetech John nicknamed the android Pete. Which, he discovers, is sojourning within decades of searching. The ‘Bot is a Believer in Christ but concludes he needs a soul to be saved.
After discussing ‘Eight Problematical Factors of God and Salvation’, human and robot join forces for the quest of all eternity. The true and false facts discussed were based on whether a Supreme Deity does or does not exist.
A lone serpent surreptitiously monitoring their conversation slithers off among the rocks. Shortly, a decision is agreed upon to barter with Satan for a soul, if he could be located.
They reviewed a Sorcerer’s Bulletin Board. After scanning past a hundred entries, they contacted a firm called Good Spirits and engages the services of Madam Catherine Montage. At first, she was reluctant to make the trip because the newly wealthy Space technician would not specify why she was needed.
The trio is able to dial in images of the past to view and hear actual conversations between the devil and those he has tempted. That drove them to determine the last three world plagues were caused by the devil’s mathematical formula. Based on their calculations, the next plague is due any day now.
Later, Pete becomes trapped within a satanic pentagon. If he steps out, the entire earth suffers a pandemic of disease and pestilence. But he must escape to gain the bargained soul.
Can a robot really enter Heaven? What are the devil’s temptations? Who dies? Who among the living is dead for eternity?
More importantly—who lives forever in Christ? You? Maybe. Maybe not?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dennis King
• Release date: Jul 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311673312

Dennis King

Hello friends, if you are looking to download my free or low-cost selections of books and essays, you've reached the right place. All you have to do is scroll down a couple of pages to peruse those offerings.What is your favorite reading genre? If you like adventures or stories with military intrigue, try “Betrayed by Soldiers” and follow that up with “Deep Cover Shakedown.” If you like poetry, you can read 20,000 words of original, rhythmical composition in “Romantic Poetry”? By poking around in the nooks and crannies of the offerings listed you will find illustrated children's stories, Sci-Fi, and many short essays that have proved useful in informal Bible Studies or self-help for the troubled souls suffering from worry or anxieties.For those of you that wish to know a little about me, after growing up in the small town of Mukwonago, Wisconsin, I served for twenty years in the military. During that time, I served two volunteer tours in classified combat situations and flew more than 100 combat missions manning a .50 machine gun from the side-door of a Marine helicopter at the height of the war. After being promoted to Staff Sergeant (E-6), I requested Officer Candidate School. As a Signal Officer, I served in Field Artillery, Signal Battalions, and Recruiting Command. My last assignment was at the Pentagon with the Army Research & Development Agency.For the avid card players out there, I invented and offer TOSS Playing Cards, comprised of an eight-suited deck that plays every card game you know with more excitement and challenges. The deck can be reviewed at Toss.iWARP.com.Retired, I now serve as a Red Cross Disaster Services team member and Spiritual Care. Please, feel free to email any comments, favorable or not. Every author, like to hear from the fans or critics. You can reach me directly at [e-mail].

Book preview

The Soul Searching Robot

First All World Serial Rights © 2020 Dennis D. King

All rights reserved. Revised 2-7-2023

EPUB ISBN 9781311673312

Table of Contents

The Meeting

The Enchantress

The Numbers

Seances Past

The Australian fact-u-drama

The Plan

The Beast Returns

What Was and Wasn’t?

Revelations

Epilogue

Novels by This Author

Children's Stories

Free Christian Essays

Toss 8-suit Playing Cards

Author's Notes

The Meeting

At alternate ends of the crumpling and segmented underpass, two vagabonds began stirring, each unaware of the other as early morning spears of sunlight peeled back the damp layers of the night that cloaked their sparse forms. Last night, both had sought shelter at opposite ends of the underpass for the same provincial reason; to get out of the cold, mildly acidic rain showers.

John, a human, moved with a stiffness that reflected the wear and tears his hired-hand, working-class life had forced upon his body. The other, obviously a robot, moved with a fluid strength that belied his 300-odd years of existence.

Catching a movement, the robot used one of his telescopic orbs to survey the stranger. What he saw was an unkempt human male, forty to forty-five, wearing the common blue uniform of a tech-tradesman. As he increased the magnification, he noted, with vivid clarity, that the man’s uniform was excessively worn, stained, and unusually void of all expected insignia’s.

In fact, at full amplification, he could even see the inconspicuous holes where a corporation's insignia patch had been removed and the silhouetted stitching had left a darted border between the faded and un-faded cloth. Normally, if the robot had any choice, he would steer clear of humans, especially one that was apparently living a suspiciously nomadic lifestyle.

In spite of these inward reservations, the robot cautiously moved forward, somehow inexplicably drawn towards the human by the similarity of their fates.

The man, still reclining, recognized the form drifting across the rubble of what used to be an eight-lane thoroughfare. As he was calculating a probable path of retreat from any confrontation, the object of his fears moved slowly nearer. As that figure came into full view, even within the blinding glare of the rising sun, it was apparent by the size and slightly different stride that it was an older class robot.

Yes, though of human form and size, one could clearly imagine seeing the servos, just under its skin, that allowed the robot erect functionality and human-like manipulations.

While it was totally unheard of to see a ‘Bot in these vagrant-like circumstances, instinctively the man realized the situation was not threatening. In rising, he shook out the kinks pressed into his flesh from sleeping on the cold, uneven concrete. With a confident, though cautiously hesitant demeanor, he strode towards the neutral middle ground.

Near the point where their paths would intersect, there was a rancid, mosquito-infested ditch, and the rubbish of another collapsed section of overpass rubble. On an east-facing concrete slab, a large, strangely rust-colored snake was basking in the weak but warming rays of the early morning sunshine.

Before either of the two tallish figures came within rock-throwing distance, the serpent slithered down into the grass and weeds. However, unlike most other reptiles, which would have crawled deep within the debris for additional shelter, this viper slithered ever closer to the more dangerous outer fringe of the overlying camouflaging cover. There he coiled, not to strike, but seemingly mesmerized by their slow advance and the beginnings of their low-toned discussions.

When they came within a few meters of each other, it was the man named John, who gave a curt, non-menacing wave of his hand and spoke: Say there friend, what brings you to this hobo hideaway? Why are you out and about amid this low-life territory? Have you no work task at hand to perform or general orders of employment?

No, I have been without orders for over two years, even though I am a Power Enhanced Automated Terra-form (P.E.A.T.) robot. My undertakings used to be those of the senior P.E.A.T. running the Nu-Chicago, Ozone Replenishment Facility. I worked there until I received satellite-fax instructions to prepare all the lower grade ‘Bots for reassignment by the CTP. CTP is short for the Central Tasking Pool, as you presumably know. On those instructions, we hurriedly re-worked the static ‘Bots to provide them their necessary mobility, but mobilizing and decontaminating the hot-bots required several months of additional work before we could safely lower their radiation counts to specification tolerances.

Yeah, I read all the details about that, John commented. You guys had been fusion blasting single atom molecules, at the upper atmospheric levels, to get improved oxygen bonding effects. Under those extreme radioactive conditions, it’s hard to believe that the CTP passed any of your worker ‘Bots to work in the vicinity of humans. The article I read stated that 85% of the robot units were rated serviceable. Saving such a large percentage was monumental work, but the remaining ‘Bots failed to be safely re-certified. The article reported that all the hot-bots had to be disposed of by a process of total meltdown. But why aren’t you working somewhere else now?

When I requested my Assignment Ruling for a new position, the CTP refused. They stated my original fax instructions applied only to ‘Bots of lower rating rather than my higher Industrial Grade status.

Well, that sounds like a typical SNAFU. Instead of using common sense and giving you another assignment, they let you remain unassigned because of your superior rating. Human supervisors or ‘Bot; bureaucrats are always nearly the same, aren’t they? Couldn’t make a simple, logical ruling if their life or servos depended on it. By the way, call me John. Say, you wouldn’t mind if I just called you Pete—instead of Power Enhanced whatever-whatever would you?

No, but why? the robot replied.

Well Pete, granted, you’re unmistakably a robot, but except for your plas-metal skin, you look so natural it seems friendlier to call you by a nickname. Say, why didn’t you sat-fax back to your higher headquarters to have those original instructions amended? That’s what I would have done. If I really wanted a job, that is? Which I don't!

That’s precisely what I attempted to do, but by the time all my sub units were decontaminated, the Central Headquarters and every out-site Ozone Plant were disbanded. You know, the outstanding work we did caused the atmospheric levels to drop dramatically. The air is better now than two-hundred years ago, the robot stated as a matter of fact. I feel proud about it, he continued with a sound of boastfulness.

Pride, that’s a humanistic feeling, John commented, as he pulled up a discarded but stout synthetic box to sit on. Are you some sort of human-converted robot? You know a lot of the industrial grades five and above used to be?

"You know, I have wondered about that myself and even set into motion several very comprehensive internal-programming checks and plugged into the main analyzer back at the plant's mainframe.