Begin Recording
Robotics
Recording by Scribe Ellison
"Robotics is where they make synths. Look at these, they were the first synths!"
The first synths stood under glass domes on either side of the archway into Robotics. Outside, Doctor Thompson was giving a briefing to three skeletal gen-one synths about conserving power, and about patching their navigation systems so they won't walk into walls. The boy made a very smug face, as a synth who was smart enough not to walk into walls ever.
Inside was… my jaw dropped. This huge white machine, mostly arms coming down from the ceiling, was building synths. I stood around gaping while completely automated arms assembled the synth's skeleton on a round frame that was moved to another station to have muscle and organs added. Don't ask how; these needle arms moved and the tissue just appeared. At another station needles connected to the synth's spine and brain and did… something. Programming its brain maybe. Then the whole frame was dipped into a round pool of bubbling red gel in the center of the room and the synth stood up out of the gel and walked to a door labeled 'Processing.' I was told that was where the rest of the programming happened, beyond just making the synth able to stand up and walk.
I watched two synths created, a man and a woman. The scientists kept at their work, giving me sidelong amused glances but letting me gawk as long as I wanted. The boy grinned, amused at how stunned I was.
And I was stunned. I've described it briefly, but everything moved so smoothly without people having to do anything. To watch it happen, it isn't just high tech. It's magical.
Doctor Alan Ben greeted me with an apology for "any trouble our synths may have caused you." and a warm welcome. He also smiled and greeted the boy, teasing him about sneaking in to watch the machines. I got the impression that the boy wasn't made here, because he didn't react to seeing the process. It is like magic, but also… seeing flesh appear in layers like that is disconcerting and then they come out of the pool stark naked and all that skin looked waxy and not quite the right colors. None of the scientists reacted at all to the nudity. After seeing their bones I can understand why nobody reacts to the flesh, but it was strange to my prewar self.
I read a terminal while the boy asked Doctor Ben about his family. I found a whole list of 'Departmental Notices' from the Director. The very first one was about my own arrival. It was very formal, "I feel both hope and trepidation when I think of how our first meeting will go." And there was the line, "Consider all sensitive information to be classified."
I wasn't surprised to read that, and it was kind of a relief to know these friendly people were hiding things from me. Another entry was about the boy, talking about correcting faults and testing upgrades. He'd been created before I emerged from the vault, and it looked like it had taken a while and a lot of updates. I wasn't sure if that was creepy or not.
I'd seen Sturges fine tuning a generator for days, and Danse fiddling with bits of his power armor to make it as close to perfect as he could. That was a kind of love, but not love for a child. But Doctor Binet was giving the boy a positively parental lecture about playing with electronics in class.
When they reached a break in conversation I asked, "Doctor Binet? What are those two synths going to be used for?"
"B-1 94 is replacing a surface operation operative, he'll be leading teams of gen-two synths in gathering resources in nondangerous environments. K4-12 will be a laborer here in the Institute."
"When a synth replaces a person on the surface… who decides when to do that?"
Doctor Binet immediately looked uncomfortable. This was probably 'sensitive information.' "Well the scientist who originated the project presents a request to their division head, and the Director reviews the proposal and gives final approval."
My control trembled for a moment. Shaun knew. I'd been trying to convince myself that maybe somehow he was innocent of the people the Institute had killed. Now I had to convince myself maybe he thought he had a good reason. I'd killed a lot of people, to protect other people. It must be the same here. All right. Ask something else.
"Do you ever make copies of yourselves?"
"No!" Doctor Binet appeared shocked. "Of course not. Why would we do that?"
It was the first thing I thought of but I can't think of an actual good reason to do it. "To see what it would be like to meet yourself? Or maybe to leave your knowledge behind when you're gone."
"We do not do that. One of the central tenets of the gen-three program is that the uniqueness of each individual must be maintained."
"So any time someone on the surface is replaced with a synth..?"
Doctor Binet's face settled into lines of something like guilt but he said, "The Institute has very few gen-three agents on the surface. Far fewer than you probably think. Whenever possible the originals are chosen from people without much time ahead of them or who are already dead of unrelated causes. The window of time in which we can pull memories from a dead brain is slim but it is possible if the body is relayed down just after death. Every test subject is planned for to provide the most experimental data possible. We are not wasting lives lightly! But… yes."
There was so much more I wanted to ask, and to tell Doctor Binet about the effects his work has had on the surface dwellers. He sounded like he'd listen, but I decided not to push it any more on my first visit. "I'm interested to know more, but I need to move on. It must be getting on to dinner time.'
Doctor Binet is a good man, he respects synths' dignity as much as anyone in the Institute. But he was lying to me. Telling me how he wished things were and hoped they would be soon instead of how they were. Lying to himself a little, I think.
The last division I needed to visit was the synth retention bureau. Doctor Binet pointed me in the right direction and I asked, "Why are they a bureau when everybody else is just a division?"
The boy shrugged.
Doctor Binet said, "If I had lots of coursers I could call my division anything I wanted to! Joke. Not sure why the previous division head chose the name. It's the newest division of course. Before the synthetic organics we'd only lose a synth here of there to raiders or monsters. Now they run off on their own."
"Why not just let them go?" I kept my voice as innocent as possible.
Doctor Binet sounded honestly regretful, "Because they're malfunctioning. A machine with all the mental and physical powers of a person, malfunctioning. When human minds malfunction the human is locked in an asylum for everyone's safety, but synths can be reset and reprogrammed. It's safer for the Institute and the Commonwealth."
I nodded. Desdemona would have hated every word of that. "So coursers bring them back."
"I am uncomfortable with the number of coursers that have been requested by the SRB. And I'm just uncomfortable with coursers."
The boy admitted, 'I'm not afraid of outsiders but I am afraid of coursers. A little."
"You and me both, kid."
The boy's dark eyes went wide. "But you killed a courser and pulled off its head. Alice heard about it from her parents."
"I had some help. If it had been just me I would've got flattened. I'm not looking forward to seeing where coursers come from, but I have to. But you don't, why don't you go have dinner instead."
"You come with me young Shaun. Your new friend can handle herself."
The boy didn't argue, so either he really was scared of the coursers or he was getting bored with me. So I said, "See you later." and went to meet the last division.
