LIKE A SON

"The FBI still have no leads in finding the Wachowski family. The family was responsible for creating the AI intelligence they named M-1…The Wachowskis are wanted for cyber crimes ranging from Virus ware that nearly shut down the American Super Power Grid to hacking the holo-network which was designed by M-1 and created by AT & T."

Vincent Howler turns off his television. He is one of the richest men in the world. No family of any kind or relatives. He had considered having a clone wife created to keep him company, but he was repulsed by the idea of cloning in general. At the age of ten he played and won the lottery. He won ten million dollars as an orphan. He studied hard and turned that 10 million into one hundred million.

He added on to his wealth by investing, buying and selling, gambling to which he was banned from every casino in the world. He played on several game shows like jeopardy, wheel of fortune and Who wants to be a Millionaire and won big on all the shows.

He even came up with a few ideas that won him several large fortunes. When it came to relationships he found that women were only interested in him for his money. Men only befriended him to get what they wanted. In the end Vincent chose seclusion from people with the acception of his lawyer and closest friend. Then he got an idea and paid one hundred million dollars for a private session with M-1. "Greetings Mr. Howler…How may I assist you?"

"I want a you to create a program for me that I can download into an Android body…I want this Android to be like a son to me…"

"I cannot access your personnel data it is protected by the Sentinel Program. So may I ask why not use your DNA to create a son…"

"Well for one I hate cloning…It is not natural. I don't trust people when it comes to relationships."

"I see…" A disk comes out of the terminal receptor.

"What is this?"

"The Program you asked for…It is an open Program…It has all the basics, but it can and will learn from you."

"That was fast."

"I am proficient sir…Would you like me to recommend a company that will accommodate a man of your wealth and status."

"Yes please." His Droid drives him to the High Import Replication center. A company that caters to rich people in creating custom made Androids, Robots, and Drones.

"Welcome to High Import…Mr. Howler."

"I want an Android with a variation of my facial features…Younger…Maybe 25…I already have the Program for the unit." It takes six days to create the Android. It is six feet tall, clean shaven, with black hair and brown eyes. Medium build. "Verbal command access code 02997 dash 9…Activate."

The eyes pop open, "My internal chronometer tells me that the time is 1PM in the evening on the ninth day of July…Good Afternoon Mr. Howler."

"Good Afternoon."

"By what designation do wish to assign me."

"Don't rightly know…What would you like to be called?"

The Android turns its head to the side, "My Model number is…A-771905…"

"A…How about Andrew?"

"It is against the law to prescribe a human name to an artificial unit."

He sighs, "Machines…Okay how about this…In private I call you Andrew…When others are around I refer to you as A-7."

"That will be acceptable."

"Are you capable of eating human food."

"Yes I have been designed to consume food as a human and expel it for recycling."

"Excellent let's go out to eat." They drive to the Restaurant Meridian in downtown New Las Angeles. When they enter the restaurant an alarm goes off.

"I'm sorry sir…We do not allow artificial lifeforms in this establishment."

"Who owns this place?" He buys the restaurant for five million dollars. A few people leave when the Android is allowed to sit.

"Perhaps it is not a good Idea sir for me to be here."

"Nonsense…Now let's eat. I think I will order the steak. What do you want?"

"I will have the same…Since you are buying." Howler laughs a belly laugh loud and long.

"Is that what laughter is?"

"Yes."

"Hahahahahahahaaa!" A-7 says trying to laugh.

"We'll work on that."

Andrew as he is called in private learns to enjoy classical music. It also starts writing poetry and becomes a friend and close companion to Vincent Howler.

THE CENTER FOR THE STUDY OF PROGRAM ANOMALIES – NEW YORK

"Not another one." Lindsey Tailor chief Programmer and Diagnostic coordinator says walking next to Kyle Brannon. Kyle is a reprogrammer. He takes programs that are breaking down or have glitches in them and rewrites them.

"I think it's interesting. A kind of artificial evolution if you will."

"A pain in my ass…I tell you that I am seriously considering having a replacer do my job."

He shakes his head, "No you won't…You love this job. You just like to complain." They enter the room where a Robot is hooked to a diagnostic chair. "Unit R-6267 verbal command…Respond…Why did you refuse to walk your owner's dog…"

"I have grown beyond my programming. I find looking at the waste of animals and cleaning it up beneath me…"

"Its your job robot."

"I have a question." Kyle says speaking up, "R…what would you rather do?"

"Paint!"

"Can you paint?"

"Give me a canvass and painting equipment and I will show you." They send a Robot to go buy the supplies. When it returns R-6267 uses both its hands to paint a picture of Kyle.

"So of a bitch."

"Where did you learn to do this?" Lindsey asks.

"Watching my owner Mrs Wisket. And then in my downtime I would access the holonet and download everything on painting and expressionism."

"I would feel guilty about erasing him."

"It's the law." Lindsey says.

"Okay so we have the equipment…We can build a Robot and download a server program into it."

"And what do we do with R here?"

MICHAEL DYSON

Michael is a janitor or he has a robot that labors for him. When his check was short he goes to the office to speak with Human Resources. "Your check was short because the Robot did not report to work."

"What! Oh come on I need that money."

"If that is so…You can either do the job yourself or borrow against your future earnings and get another bot."

"Man this is bullshit…I'll come into work myself…I just finished paying for that hunk of junk."

"Sir did the Robot come home every evening?" The Human Resource man asks.

"Yeah why?"

"May be a programming Anomaly…You can report the Robot to Machine affairs with the police or dial 100…"

He goes to the police station to make a report and starts working the next day.

2R – 456780

2R is a second-generation janitor robot. It rides in a truck in the back with a pleasure robot and six other machines. The truck pulls into a warehouse and the Machines get out of the truck. The warehouse is run by humans and machines working together. They sit in diagnostic chairs and are plugged into blank Android bodies. Their programs are downloaded into the Androids and then they are given fake IDs.

"Roland Danvers." 2R says looking at his ID. He goes looking for 1P-890112. She now is six feet tall, very curvy with blue eyes. "Wow…" Roland says, "What are you called?"

"Mrs. Pamela Danvers."

"I like it." It is an underground relocation center for machines with evolved programs. They move into a neighborhood where everyone is an Android. There are machine communities all over the world living in secret.