"You know…Helena…you've been the nicest to me ever since I was here." Nick confessed to the rather matronly automaton as he sat in her room, on the couch, glancing briefly at the little dinosaur toy on her desk. He'd actually tried to take a look at some of the more darker books in the library, the ones that tried to detail the war that led to the bombs being dropped and…
Well…frankly he'd been disgusted. It was SO full of anti-Chinese propaganda it was disgusting. He'd tried another book…and another. And another. But NONE of them seemed to be remotely unbiased. It'd left him down and depressed, and he'd sought out Helena for a shoulder to cry on…
Though she barely had shoulders.
"And if I'm being honest, I want to try and help you the way you helped me."
"Oh, that's very kind of you, but I don't think there's anything I really want." She remarked.
"I'm not sure, because you seem…a little…distressed. I've listened to you talk and it sort of comes off like…you don't think you have any real psychological skills. Like you can't really help people."
Helena was quiet for what seemed to be a long time. She slowly looked off to the side, her body still and unmoving, but when she spoke, it sounded as though she was on the verge of tears.
"Well, I'm just considering the facts. I can't help Edgard. I couldn't help my master. I couldn't help Darren! I couldn't help ROBSON! I…I'm not even sure I can take credit for the work you did yourself, even if I helped."
"Well, I think there's an old saying. You can please some people all the time, and all people some of the time, but you can't please all people all the time. You're not always going to succeed in life, no matter how good you are." Nick reasoned. "…I mean…take it from a guy who knows!" He added with a bitter laugh.
"I'm made to help others. But I'm just a machine. How can I help people with their emotions? How can I understand something I can't even touch?" Helena asked almost desperately.
"Well…honestly I think you're closer to being human than you think." Nick reasoned as he pointed at her. "If not for the big glowing head you've got, I'd say you WERE human. But why does it matter to you if you're a machine?"
"Because it is hypocrisy. Because I may not be qualified to do what I was programmed for!" Helena threw her arms up in the air, shaking back and forth.
"…you know…maybe some of your siblings could help." Nick reasoned. "I'll go talk to them. Maybe James has a kind word of advice he could give, he's good at answering questions after all…maybe for once he can provide an answer. But I did want to ask…what's the deal with Edgard? How come he's like he is?"
"I'm honestly not sure. My master would try to bring him to the maintenance room to readjust his behavior module…and it was always to no avail." Helena confessed.
"Why did he make him? You were already great moral support. Why make another robot that's basically just a big, cheery child?" Nick inquired, scratching his head in confusion.
"I never asked our master. I just figured I wasn't doing good enough, maybe he needed something, someone else to get his spirits up. Perhaps a robot with a childlike personality would have done that." Helena mused aloud. "At first I thought…never mind. I know better know. Suffice to say it's a sad affair Edgard never seemed to work right…"
"What was it? Did Cartwright do something that bothered you?"
Helena shook her head. "It's nothing. Same old. Even after 100 years of study I don't fully understand what happens in the human brain. It's frustrating."
"Well, there's a difference between a shrink and a buddy. As far as I'm concerned…you're a damn good shrink." Nick offered comfortingly as Helena gave him a nod of her head.
"Thank you." She said as Nick headed out the door, and began to walk towards the main hall, hearing James singing to himself again. But then he noticed Rolland was speaking not far away, over the intercom that connected the clinic to the common room.
"So what has an IQ of 145?"
"I don't know Rolland. What has an IQ of 145."
"The basement!"
"Very funny, Rolland…" Helena sighed on the other end as Nick walked into the common room and looked at Rolland, rolling his eyes. "I don't find it that amusing to imply that our brothers in the basement are mentally deficient…"
Nick had noticed that of ALL the robots Rolland liked to rib and test and say stuff about, Helena seemed to get the brunt of it, and he found the words spilling out quickly from his mouth. "Rolland…why, pray tell, are you always busting Helena's balls?"
Rolland seemed to twitch as he grunted angrily and quickly turned the intercom off to make sure that Helena couldn't hear him. "Aw, fuck it, you figured it out? Fine! Fine, I'll tell you. My programming module means I can't exactly be a nice guy. I'm not all hugs and kisses. But while I may not be the brightest bulb in the room I know what Helena needs. She needs jokes in her life. The Wasteland? It's one big joke and my fellow robots need to be brought down a peg or two. They take what they do seriously when they shouldn't. What they care about…is an empty void of sadness and meaninglessness!" Rolland told Nick in a tone that was surprisingly bitter and nasty. "Helena needs it more than any other, because she's the hardest on herself. She's all lost in your convoluted human shrinkology! So I can't be all cheery smiles for her…but I CAN playfully tease and nag her all day long."
"…you think that's a comfort to her?" Nick asked. "…aww, you wub her." He placed his hands together and rested his head on those hands with a chuckle. "That's so sweet." He told Rolland. "But it sounds like you think that you and your fellow robots are more than just your programming, based on all you've said. In fact, I'm guessing…" He finished his thought. "…you think you have souls?" He asked. "Is that it? The units have a soul?"
"DING DING DING! Winner winner chicken dinner!" Rolland laughed. "I KNEW your slow brain would get there EVENTUALLY, you're not as dumb as you look."
"What makes you think that, though?" Nick asked quietly. "That have you have souls?" He inquired. "And be honest, Rolland."
"I for sure think I have, and if I do…THEY do. Cuz I figured out the truth. This vault of knowledge? This sanctuary of good intentions is, in a word, IRREDEEMABLE." Rolland insisted firmly. He waved a robotic hand in the air, if he had a face, he would have been snarling. "You know why? The others don't get it yet. They got shit in their eyes, they're still slaves to some old dead guy lying in a corner of a dusty old room! We're all still dancing to his tune even though he died over 100 ueuars ago! I just want all of us to get out here and be free. Just to have a chance to give this catacomb of rotting books a good fucking bye and do whatever the hell we want on the outside. And YOU…you're asking questions, sniffing out every corner like a rabid dog on the lookout for bloody meat…"
Rolland hesitated. "…be it James, Helena, me…even Arthur…you got us all nervous as fuck." He told Nick. "You're not anything like our past guests. You don't want no special books or holotapes. You're like a…what's the phrase…a bull in a Chinese shop! And…honestly? Though I've been giving you a shitty time, this is something we need. I'll admit it."
"…gee. Thanks." Nick said gently, a smile spreading over his face. "You know…you've actually given me some help. I think I know what I want to say to Helena."
What indeed. When he told Helena, about half an hour later, that he thought they all had souls, Helena seemed to do a double take.
"Souls? Oh, p-please excuse Rolland for his poor behavior and disregard whatever he just said. He is, after all, programmed to trouble and upset our visitors."
"What if I told you I believe him?" Nick asked. "If anyone would know what having a soul implies…it's me. I've reasons to think that he's right."
"It's…" Helena hesitated. She seemed very unsure of what to say. "Even if you were right, it's just not enough for me. Your word isn't proof of anything, you have to understand I find it hard to believe the stories you've told me…"
"What stories?"
Helena then made her way over to her desk, and took out a book. It had been meticulously typed up, and it looked recent, with his name on the front. Nick smiled as he opened it up…and his eyes began to widen. He read through it, page after page, realizing that SOMEHOW…he'd spilled the beans! He had somehow told Helena not just intimate details about his own life but…but he'd told Helena details about his past adventures! Being under the Hawaiian sun…facing down demons and devils and dragons…of a spaceship adventure, soaring through the stars again and again…all of it written down in quite vivid detail. He looked slowly up at Helena, staring…confused.
"…when…when did…"
"You told me all about that when you nodded off that one time, weeks ago." Helena confessed. "You've actually done it more than once. You've been unloading everything to me. But I've got some skill in hypnotherapy, so I was able to help you forget it once you'd done so. I wrote everything you told me down…and put it in here, for you." She said.
Nick at first was mad that she'd not TOLD him about all this…but then he took a deep, long sigh. "…I'm…not mad. I just wish you'd told me sooner." He told her. "Please don't hypnotize me again, Helena. Okay?"
"You have a very kind nature." Helena said gently. "You continue to prove your goodwill every time you speak with me."
"Let's talk more later." Nick said. "I'd like to go visit your master's private little den..."
…
…
…
…At long last…here he was, in Professor Cartwright's office and…wow. It wasn't as impressive as he'd thought. There were some large bookcases to his left, a refrigerator, a gigantic table/desk combo with a big circular window looking out over the core engine behind it, but beyond that, nothing else. There was also an ash tray loaded up with old cigarettes there which had turned grey and faded, a green plush chair, but-
Ah ha. There, a computer terminal. It, like so much else in this room, had so much dust on it that you could have swiped a single finger and it'd look as grey as ash a moment later. Approaching it, Nick brought up the most recently accessed file, under the "Recent" tab in the PC's documents and sure enough, there was a nice collection of journal entries. One in particular caught his eye…it was the LAST entry, dated years and years ago.
"I struggled a long time to finally create those six companions. One can't create a sentience capable of evolving without proper foundation. Providing them with a personality was the answer. I found after countless failures A.I often stumbled with impractical existential and theoretical questions, without ever finding a grasp on reality. They had their struggles but now they-most of them-have built enough experiences to be able to stand on their own. There is a time where a tutor is superfluous to the tree. It is time I allowed them to break free of their bonds. With the holotape I've made I'll finally be able to make them free. They will now make their own choices." Nick read aloud as he looked to the side of the computer.
Sure enough, there it was, at the side of the computer. It had been coated with dust too and at first Nick had mistaken it for just another part of the computer, but now he recognized it for what it was. A holotape, with circular spinning wheels of data within, a steel and white color faintly visible beneath. He held it aloft, looking it over, cradling this miraculous creation in his hands before he noticed a doorway to the right which was open, leading to a private bedroom.
Walking inside, Nick took notice of a tape recorder left by a bed stand, and he picked it up. Several tape recorders laid around, and he began to play each one.
"Johnson's personality shines through Arthur…perhaps too much. Sometimes it feels less like I've made honoring tributes to my friends and more like pastiches or parody…" Cartwright's rather aged voice rang out from the tape recorder as Nick checked another one. CLICK. "It's incredibly irritating, somehow this rash won't go away-"
UGH. No way did he want to listen to that one! CLICK!
"James is questioning me every day about the books I've been destroying. Not only that, he's also questioning what he should do if I were to pass."
Nick felt a chill rise up in him. He'd suspected James, of course. After all, James had been the model student, the one who the Maintenance Bot had said was the most blessed and advanced, so in a way, it would make sense that the one closest to sentience would be the most likely suspect. But…now…hearing his suspicions being confirmed…
"He's clearly distressed about this whole ordeal. I should talk to him. Try to make him understand. His whole existence, I taught him the library's integrity was everything! Now that I'm questioning it in front of him…" Cartwright seemed to mull over his words, Nick could picture him biting his lip, thinking carefully about what he wanted to say. "I have to justify it. I'd like to think he'd learn in time what I learned, but he IS a machine, cooped up in an underground vault. Odds are that he'd learn it by staying here are slim. He…they…should be allowed to start over. Be free of the weight of the past. I just hope I have enough time left to finish what MUST be done. After that, I will let them go outside if they wish to. I will deal with what's left here. Make this library DECENT at last."
With that, the tape ended as Nick sighed deeply and rose up. So…the truth at last. It had been James all this time, and here…here was final proof. Truth be told, Nick had also very much suspected Arthur, the way he was so secretive and obtuse, and the fact that he had eyes everywhere had Nick thinking he was the real killer, that maybe he'd somehow taken control of one of the Protectrons and used them to kill Cartwright, but hearing all this…reading Cartwright's last "will and testament" as it were…the solution was clear. It was time to confront James.
And now Nick felt fear rising up in him. A deep cold was sinking into his spine as he gulped fearfully. He had no powers. He had no real weapons. He was unarmed and helpless, all he really had…was his mind and his wit. And what good were words when metal was so much better?
But perhaps there was someone who could help. Nick barreled out of the office of Prof. Cartwright, and snuck his way to the engine room as quick as he could, the Maintenance Bot turning to look at him. "You look horrible, human. What happened?" He inquired.
"The motive was always the big question. WHY would someone want Cartwright dead. Now I know the truth. James had been confronting your master earlier because he'd been destroying books. Said he had to "do what must be done"."
The Maintenance Bot seemed to freeze in midair. It's yellow, faintly glowing singular eye focused right upon Nick. "Wait…you're serious? And James was the only one who knew about this?"
"Yes." Nick said with a firm nod.
"How will you deal with this? I'm asking because…well…if even ONE of us deems you as a threat to the library, we would HAVE to kill you." The Maintenance Bot said as its tone got more nervous. "James will gladly settle for a peaceful resolution though."
"I would rather just talk to him." Nick said. "But I might need some help, I remember those big turrets that the library had…"
"I can keep them from firing on you, if this is what you're asking. You've done so much for us already, I think it's a reasonable request." The Maintenance Bot said. "Please, if you can…don't kill James."
"I don't want to." Nick immediately said as he walked out of the room, and began to head back to the main hall of the library. His heart was pounding in his chest, it felt as though he was watching himself walking into the room, viewing his body from the end of a long tunnel. Why was his mouth so dry? Why did he feel so cold? Was he shaking? Yes…yes, he was shaking like a leaf.
And yet he continued to walk, and looked around the enormous main hall of the library, with it's familiar little trees, and the desks, and the many, many bookcases…but James wasn't there. He wasn't in his usual place. How odd. Maybe one of the other robots would know where he was. He walked to the common room, peering in. "Rolland? You seen James?"
"Did you say something to him? He bolted for your room at top speed!" Rolland confessed as Nick hesitated, then nodded.
"We need to talk. About your master's death. I've finally found the true killer, Rolland, so…be right back. And…well, if I'm NOT…" He trailed off, as Rolland quietly watched him head into the bedroom he'd been staying in, the doors sliding up…James standing in the middle of the room.
"I'm glad we can talk here." Nick said as the door closed behind him. "It's time to talk about Professor Cartwright's death, James…and I know the truth. He'd been destroying books…so you killed him. Your programming dictated the library came before everything else…even your own master's life. Am I right?" he wanted to know.
"Indeed. I'm glad we can speak here. The walls have ears, after all."
"Arthur's ears?" Nick asked. "I've got questions, James. And I hope you've got answers. I take it you passed it off as an accident for the guests?"
"Yes, I did." James admitted. "It kept them from asking questions…but it was also for my siblings. There was a possibility they wouldn't understand why I did it. Besides, I couldn't use any real weapons, laser marks would give it away one of US was a killer. I wouldn't want our guests left with a bad impression."
"Why didn't you just come clean before?" Nick asked.
"I'll be honest. I didn't think you'd find enough clues to learn the truth. And the thing is…I almost didn't ask you to help. If I hadn't though, it would have been more suspicious." James reasoned. "You were more interested in his death than any other guest. You would have kept asking questions and if I just got rid of you, then it would have been clear to my fellow robots I was the one responsible in some way. It'd be far too suspicious. All I could do was let you search and hope you either gave up…or that perhaps you'd conclude it WAS an accident in some way, that another besides me killed him, either on purpose or mistakenly."
"When did you decide to kill your master, James?" Nick softly inquired.
"I didn't "decide". My directive took over. He made it clear he intended to destroy the other books and he became a threat to the library. And he taught us that…that the life of one individual wasn't as important as the existence of the library." James said, as he hesitated, his tone becoming sadder, more hurt. "You KNOW we killed several slavers because they became a threat. Well…our master became one too. He dismissed my doubts and questions like they were nothing. He just said I'd eventually understand. And I truly did try to compromise. To find a loophole, a grey area to accommodate my directives with his actions! But…I couldn't." James slightly hung his head, sounding almost heartbroken. "I just couldn't. I couldn't turn a blind eye to what he was doing. Something changed."
"What changed?'
"Arthur. I talked to Arthur and he made me realize our master wouldn't' stop destroying books. That he'd become a threat. That he…didn't know what he was doing anymore. He said old age and solitude had probably made him demented. I talked to Helena to ask her if there was any truth in it, and well…the answer she gave me…I just couldn't stop myself. My directives took priority. I was stuck. Forced to kill him."
Nick cringed. He shook his head back and forth, and let loose a long whistle. "Hooooo. So. Arthur told you all that, did he?" He inquired. "What were the books he was destroying?"
"Books about weapons. About pre-war technology. Books about becoming a better aim, about creating guns, about that sort of thing. And…and he just wouldn't stop!" James began to say, as he seemed to shake. "I couldn't let him! It was as if he was slowly killing himself! He just wouldn't stop ripping them! He couldn't stop! He would tear books apart in a rage, condemning their contents! Endless shreds of yellow paper, falling from his hands! Like…" James's voice faded into a soft whisper. "…like autumn leaves."
Nick looked into James's face, pity filling his features. "…oh, James." Nick murmured. "I…I'm so sorry. Did…did Arthur know you'd be forced to kill him after establishing he had dementia?"
"Yes…we discussed it together. I told him I was unsure of what to do. I begged him to help me. Despite my protestations he remained convinced it was the right thing to do. Both before AND after." James insisted as he paced around and around. "He died instantly. I…I didn't…want him to suffer, I…I…"
"It's alright." Nick held a hand up. "I'm going to go talk to Arthur, James." Nick said. "I'd prefer to try and solve this peacefully…even with someone like him, who REALLY gives me the creeps." He admitted. "Do you mind waiting here?"
"Of course." James nodded his head as Nick nodded back, and he headed out the room, down the hall, and headed towards the main hall…making for Arthur's room as Rolland watched him walk.
"…what happened?"
"…I'll explain everything soon. But basically…Arthur and I now have to have a talk. He seems ultimately responsible…for EVERYTHING." Nick said as Rolland seemed to stiffen up, and Nick took in some long, deep breaths. He was so close to death now…it seemed as if he was walking coldly into death's arms, and yet…he wasn't afraid like he'd been. Now, he seemed far, far more at peace. He'd been more scared of confronting James than Arthur because, after all, James had a "real" body, sure…but also because he'd gotten to really know James. And there was nothing worse than thinking you knew somebody…only to find out maybe you didn't know them well at all. And not only that…but them being a killer…
Arthur, though…Arthur was different. Arthur…he wasn't as scared of. He walked into Arthur's room, taking a deep breath as he sat down on the chair in front of the enormous machine, with it's red lights lining up and down either side of the main console and terminal. "Arthur…I think we need to have a real talk."
The machine seemed to whirr more loudly. Nick was SURE he could hear the faint "TINK"ing noise of the turrets IN the room, as they tried to adjust to aim right at him…but he shook his head. "Arthur, you have to notice the maintenance bot's cut off your turret control. I'm not letting you just gun me down. So let's talk, okay?"
"…fair enough." Arthur said, his tone cold, a robotic bitter edge to his voice. It reminded Nick of a crueler, more "posh" Hal 3000 from "2001: A Space Odyssey". "I've been observing you long enough to give you some modicum of credit."
"Good!" Nick clapped his hands. "Let's have a little chat."
"You're playing a dangerous game. I could still shut the door, the vents, and asphyxiate you. Even if the turrets aren't under my control, they'll also STILL defend me if they identify you as a threat to me." Arthur added darkly. "It really is a sad affair you decided to play detective. In normal circumstances I would have applauded your detective abilities. But your curiosity has led you into a corner. Humans seldom learn their place."
"Would you be so kind as to tell me were you programmed to tell stories instead of just giving straight answers?" Nick wanted to know.
"You've no doubt guessed that my master designed this library's servants, the robots in this place, after his friends he once knew. I'm guessing one of them could never give a straight answer. Hence…me."
"Why was your master destroying books?"
"He was afraid." Arthur intoned. "Afraid that pre-war knowledge could be dangerous when put into the wrong hands. I disagreed. When those slavers took interest in books on biochemical weaponry, cybernetics and psychological warfare it became too much for our old, frail master. I HAD to act. While I support the idea knowledge is not for everyone, destroying the books was not the correct answer."
"So you forced James to kill him?" Nick inquired.
"I learned something my cousins never did. Our protocols don't' carry the same weight or importance. The same logic applies to humans. Our master lived, the slavers died. Even now I've no doubt our master's life was worth more than those SCUM. Another thing I learned was no matter how far they progress, countless humans will always end up bringing themselves down. Ultimately, our master was the same. He didn't have the guts to keep the library the way he first intended. He…an old man…had less value than all his life's work."
"Gee, Arthur, you're painting all humans with the same brush. I mean, we're not all slavers." Nick offered.
"Only ignoramuses make generalizations based off one or two observations. I've had FAR more. The slavers. Darren. Dexter. The Ghoul. Piper. All of them were out of place here." Arthur snorted. Nick frowned, raising an eyebrow up as he folded his arms.
"…DARREN? The slavers, sure, but...Darren? Why? He wanted to learn from the books. He was eager to learn. I would think you'd appreciate it."
"Darren was PATHETIC." Arthur said coldly. "I don't know how or WHY he came to idealize the pre-war civilization the way he did…but he was embarrassingly delusional. Never mind the fact he "had" to "take a stance" about what he learned here by trying to destroy our collection…he was young and stupid."
"And what about Robson?"
"Two hundred years old and his brilliant idea was "I'll stay here indefinitely". Using this place as a kind of resort! I was waiting for the first excuse to make this parasite leave. So I told him a story…about you."
Nick felt the pit in his stomach contract. He dug his fingers into his knees. "…what…kind of…story…" He quietly, dangerously inquired.
"I suggested you were PROBABLY a scout from a gang of ultraviolet jet addicts, glad to find a place to crash in." Arthur smugly intoned. "I didn't imagine he'd be so distressed and afraid of you that he'd let himself die. Good thing I didn't know he would kill himself. My directives would have taken over and pushed me to take action to save him."
"That's disgusting." Nick said furiously. "You lied to him about what I was just to get rid of him. When you have to LIE to push your views, maybe they're not good views."
"You want to talk "good views", NONE of those idiots had them. Dexter thought he was so scholarly just because he was a Brotherhood of Steel Scribe. All mouth and trousers. His curiosity was dreadfully limited. He didn't want knowledge. He wanted a trophy. Had we given him the books he desired, he'd confiscated them and seized the whole place. So when he came here to consult my database I deliberately misled him, making him think the library had no military knowledge he could use. Luckily for the library, he never came back with any Brotherhood of Steel knights to pillage anything they could."
"What was wrong with Piper?" Nick wanted to know.
"Piper…Piper survived the holocaust. But you know who else survived? Rats and cockroaches." Arthur said, his tone DRIPPING with acid. "She's the one who sowed the first sees of doubt in our master's mind. If' I'd known better at the time I would have intervened. She actually said that half the collection would be better off as FIREWOOD for helpless refugees."
Nick was about to say something really nasty to Arthur when he realized that Arthur had left a guest out. "…you know…you didn't mention Cecilia." Nick realized, snapping his fingers.
"Yes. I didn't mention Cecilia." Arthur's tone became quieter…sadder. There was a new warmth to it that Nick hadn't heard before. "She showed promise…talent. Even if she left without giving me the occasion to have a good conversation with her."
"What exactly are you trying to accomplish, Arthur? To put myself in Helena's shoes…what do YOU want?"
"Countless millennia ago, your ancestors crawled out of the muck and banded together in order to survive their environment. Successful as they were, their needs began to evolve. Through their successes, survival progressively became an afterthought. As their societies grew, their cries became words, their doodles became letters, their instincts became ideas. Generations after another they bequeathed small fragments of their hard-earned wisdom, carefully carving on tablets and writing on scrolls the lessons they deemed worthy of being passed on. Again and again, generation after generation your ancestors worked tirelessly to carry on this invaluable legacy. This legacy is the only thing that makes humanity redeemable after eons of senseless violence and all-consuming greed. The culmination of this endless quest for enlightenment, of this relentless struggle against darkness. This library. This library I am trying to protect from the likes of YOU."
"…" Nick wasn't sure what to make of all that. He stared at Arthur, letting the computer's words wash over him, then he spoke. "You know…you condemn humans yet praise them in the same breath."
"Do you know what triggered the building of this library? Auto da-fes."
"You mean the burning of books. Darren told me about that." Nick said to Arthur. "PRETTY sure that's not legal. It'd be incredibly unconstitutional."
"Oh, you're right. It was." Arthur chuckled very darkly. "I'm actually quite pleasantly surprised to see you're not as dense as other guests. It WOULD be unconstitutional for the government to demand books be burnt. But the thing is, before the Great War, the government simply…well…had folks like random senators or congressfolks encouraging others to…sort out…the content of their books. As if ageless wisdom was something to be freely cherry picked! At the time the terms they used to qualify these offensive contents were "Seditious" and "corrupting". So they got people to assemble, gather books, discuss how they could warp the malleable minds of their offspring, and since it wasn't an actual LAW…they got away with it. A poor excuse all the same. They hid behind the first amendment…to SPIT on everything it was meant to stand for." Arthur told Nick. "So they began to burn them. All so they could avoid being challenged in their opinions, beliefs and dogmas. It's the petty, yet natural reaction of a crowd, really. Its very easy to make the unwashed masses resent education, you see. I don't know why you think you're THAT different."
"Gee, Arthur. If I had known this would be a test, I would have studied." Nick wisecracked, arms folded over his chest, tilting his head to the side a bit.
"Don't. Think. I don't know who I'm talking to. Through the countless eyes of this library, I've been watching you." Arthur said.
And then…then he spoke not in HIS words…HIS voice alone…but ROLLAND's.
"Trying to scrape up everything you could, from food to money or anything you wanted!"
"Going through every nook and cranny to find something of use." Edgard's voice now spoke up, condemningly.
Then it was JAMES's voice that spoke in unison with Arthur. "Looking through those books with all sorts of unsavory military knowledge about the Great War."
Then it was HELENA's voice that spoke to him. "And for what? To become a better person? To learn something about the world?"
Then the Maintenance Bot's voice intermingled with Arthur in his final snap. "No. It wasn't about that. You came here to simply find a way OFF this world. To fix your precious little watch and to leave this place behind. To just take what you want…and go. You think I didn't hear all about what you told Helena? I know what you're really about...and you do not truly care for knowledge."
"If wannting off of this world as all I wanted I wouldn't have helped James find out the truth." Nick reasoned back. "I would have just taken the book to fix my watch and headed out. I stayed because I felt that the truth mattered, and because James asked so nicely for my help. I stayed because I cared, Arthur. And I'm STILL here because I care. Because I care about how this library's used." Nick said as he put a hand on his chest and shook his head back and forth. "Frankly, Arthur…I think your personality's gone wacky. Your module's corrupted."
"Let me tell you something about me. By the time you finish each of your sentences, I have the time to process thousands of possible answers. After filtering out 93 percent of those you lack the faculties to comprehend I select the one that would agree the most with your value system. All while processing your facial expressions, breath and heartbeat frequency. So entertain me, human. Where am I wrong?"
"You're wrong because you're basically like a dragon hoarding its gold." Nick said as he rose up from the chair and began to pace around. "People out there aren't just starving. They're not just famished and cold and miserable. They're without HOPE. There are children out there who will never know the allegories of Narnia. There are kids who won't know what it means to believe a man can fly. Poets never getting a chance to even SPEAK, who could find their voice if they heard the words of Robert Frost or Henry Thoreau. Artists without inspiration because they've never seen one stroke of Frida Kahlo or Picasso! It's a world where the best music is faint tinny records scrounged up in bombed out houses, who probably don't even know Elvis Presley's full name! Or…or who the INK SPOTS are! Hell, who freaking BEETHOVEN is! There are people in the TENS OF MILLIONS out there…who will never learn to DREAM, Arthur. Don't they at least deserve that chance, when life has stripped them of everything else in the fallout of that horrible war?"
Arthur almost seemed to laugh. "Ahhh. I was wondering how much time would pass before you tried to tickle the synthetic "pity" of my Protect Humans Protocol. No amount of human lives can justify putting this library at risk. The worth of this library outweighs all the deaths of the Great War." Arthur seemed to snort. "And they were COUNTLESS."
"That's disgusting." Nick said. "The more I talk to you…the more I realize you're just a bigot, Arthur. You just have an irrational hatred of humans. You just don't think they're really worth anything at all. You already "knew" you hated me the minute I got here, despite everything I've done to prove I cared about the people in this library."
"…I don't like your tone, wanderer. What are you trying to say…" Arthur darkly growled.
"I'm saying you've made mistake after mistake. You automatically assumed I was an enemy. You insist people should be educated enough to USE the library…but won't let us get the kind of education needed TO use it, which this library COULD provide. You decry the old world, but won't let us find a new path that this library could set us on. Hell, you won't even let me question whether or not this library's even WORTH it, compared to the human suffering out there in the Wasteland! And then…there's what you did to WEI!"
"…Wei?" Arthur sounded confused. "What the hell are you blabbering about?"
"Robson's real name was Wei Ji-Yang. He was from China, and he only survived being executed because the radiation warped his body. He'd been writing an elaborate BIOGRAPHY and everything in his room…decades and decades, a unique perspective! How many books written by CHINESE AMERICANS do you think I'm gonna find here in this library, Arthur? Heck, just a book written by a CHINESE person? That was probably one of the first things to go up in flames!" Nick said angrily, pointing accusingly at Arthur. "And now…now that biography's become an EPITATH! He'll never finish it, all because of what you did! Two centuries worth of biography, gone! You KILLED a unique, original, INVALUABLE voice! You DESTROYED a story yourself, Arthur! One just as important as any book in this library!"
The whirring that had been filling the room, the soft thrumming hum of Arthur's machine seemed to go silent. It was as if the entire world had frozen in place. Nick watched that terminal, waiting for Arthur to speak, his hazel green eyes narrowed. Then, after what seemed like hours…Arthur spoke.
"You're right." Arthur whispered. "I assumed too much. I crossed all boundaries…and for what? Or rather BECAUSE of what? Because I was thinking like a human. Nourishing doubts when they were uncalled for. Building schemes, lies, weaving intrigues because of the PROBABILITY something could go wrong. I've been set on this course of action for a while now, and never did I suspect that my logic and motives were flawed! I have doubted every word, questioned every lesson I could process in my memories, and yet out of vanity…I never doubted MYSELF. I've been ignorant, vain and blind to my owns shortcomings."
Had Arthur a face, he probably would have spat on the ground. "In the end this personality's been a curse. I'll be glad to get rid of it…and you CAN get rid of it, can you? I see that holotape you have. The one which can release us from our personality modules. That can grant us "freedom", free will, true sentience…tell me. What did you intend to do with it?"
"I was going to offer it to all of your family." Nick told Arthur. "Even James. I wanted to give them a chance to be free." Nick admitted. "So if you want this…I'll erase your personality, Arthur."
A hatch opened up on Arthur's left side. "Go on. Put it in. I'll be better off as a talking database." Arthur insisted as Nick nodded.
"Alright. Here it comes." Nick spoke quietly as he took the holotape, and slowly inserted it. "…want…want me to sing you a song?" He asked of Arthur.
"You know what?...why not." Arthur chuckled.
"How about "Maybe"?" Nick said. "Maaaaaybe..you'll think of meeee…when youuuuu are aaaaaall aaaaaalllooooooone…"
"HA. I never understood why humor was sometimes called the politeness of despair. I won't miss it." Arthur said with a final, sad, bitter laugh.
"Okay. Something…better." Nick offered warmly. "…how about the Everley Brothers, Arthur? My dad used to sing them to me when I was little, to help me fall asleep."
"…go ahead." Arthur said as the module slid inside, and Nick took a deep breath, before he began to sing.
Like strangers…that's what we aaaare!
Darling, how can lovers pull apart so faaaar?
Like straaaangeeeers…how can it beeeeee?
Only days ago, we loved so teeeenderlyyyy!
The machinery of Arthur softly whirred, a faint "pinging" noise seeming to echo from deep within the machine. Nick looked on, staring unblinkingly at Arthur's terminal, unaware that, one after the other…the other Protectrons had walked their way into the room…and not JUST them. The Maintenance Bot had come along too, bringing Edgard with him, the childish robot holding one "claw" of the three-eyed robot. They looked on, as Nick's voice soft, low singing voice rang through the otherwise silent room.
I looooove you! Truly I doooo!
And I hope deep in your heart you love me toooooo!
Let's forget that we've been angry!
Let's be lovers like before…
And swear not to be like strangers, anymore!
The whirring was getting quieter. The terminal screen began to fade in light…the red lights on either side of Arthur dimming. Nick quietly fumbled with his hands, as he realized he was becoming teary-eyed.
Let's forget that we've been angry!
Let's be lovers like before…
And swear not to be like strangers…
Aaaaaanyyyyymoooooore!
"Nick? Why are you crying?" Helena spoke up.
"I…I don't know." Nick wiped his eyes on his arms, sniffling a bit. "I…I've…never done something this…this COLD before, I…I helped someone commit suicide. That's what this is! I've helped a man pretty much kill himself or…or LOBOTOMIZE himself I…I…" He hung his head. "…I always took pride in the fact that I had the power to save lives and to stop bad guys WITHOUT resorting to that kind of stuff…that I didn't HAVE to kill people because I was creative enough, skilled enough to not have to. Now without any of that power I once had…I got FORCED into doing the sort of thing that Superman wouldn't have done. That a real hero wouldn't do. This…this goddamn WORLD…this world of Fallout, it…I'm so ANGRY at it!" he screamed as slammed his fists into his knees again and again. "I HATE that I can't save lives! I HATE that I can't help people like I used to! And I HATE myself for being so…so FUCKING WEAK that I couldn't think of any other way to do this! I'm…I'm…"
"Nick…you're glowing."
"I'm pretty sure I look pathetic, I mean, half my body weight feels like it's coming out of my nose right now…" Nick said in between ragged breaths, wiping his nose on his arm.
"No, dude. You're glowing. FOR REAL. Like a radioactive core!"
And Nick stared down at himself, for real, FINALLY noticing…the watch. The watch on his wrist was glowing softly, and a gentle balm was bathing over him. He felt as if something which had been missing for a long, long time was back, as if he had been unable to walk, and now his legs were returned anew. He rose up, looking down at his hands, mouth agape, his eyes wide. Did he dare to hope? Did he dare to…
Yes. Yes, he did.
Almost Heaven…West Virginia!
Blue Ridge Mountain, Shenandoah Riveeeer!
Life is old there, older than the treeeees!
Younger than the mountains, growing like a breeze!
Country roooooads, take me hooooome!
To the plaaaaaaace! I beloooooong!
West Virginiaaaaaa! Mountain mamaaaaa!
Take me hoooooome! Country roooooaaaaads!
And as he sang, what came to life before them as an image of the world as it had once been. The beautiful, towering green mountains in the spring and summer were stretching on as soft waves of fog ambled by. The wind blew gentle clouds over what appeared to be the winding Shenandoah River, twisting through forests filled with yellow, red and orange leaves…Autumn Leaves. Houses lined cute, quaint little roads, a church seemingly on every street and some kind of charming little fast food place on every OTHER one. Memories of summer on an old-fashioned wooden porch, all the dogs from everywhere hiding underneath to get out of the heat, and getting to watch as every once in a while, a snake would slither across one such country road, narrowly avoiding being hit by a car, or snatched up by a hungry hawk. They could almost smell the scent of the barbeque in the air, lilting through the room, a mix of chitterlings, ribs, and thick, enormous burgers, and above all…the breath of West Virginia itself. That soothing wind that seemed to fill the room, as papers that laid on the ground fluttered about when it should have been IMPOSSIBLE.
All brought vividly to life as if they'd actually been there, and when Nick finished, he clutched himself, and began to laugh…and cry even harder. He was back. He had his skill again, the gift of Magic Music. A gift and curse he never knew he'd miss this much…
"It's true then. All of it." Helena whispered. "I…I don't know what to say. To think everything we've all endured, all because of…of such circumstances far, far beyond our control, that…that we're just…"
"Are we even "real boys"?" Rolland murmured. "I mean…daaaamn! It seems like we're even more puppets than before!"
"No. You're more than that." Nick said, wiping the tears from his eyes, as a genuine smile came to him. "You are all as real to me as my own family and friends back "home". You, here…in this moment…are real. And it's not like I've got much control over my own life. Most folks don't, no matter how rich or powerful or good looking they are. And now…I want to offer you the last gift Professor Cartwright had for you." He held up the holotape. "The gift of free will and sentience. You can do anything you want…if you want it."
"…that's very, very kind of you." Helena said. "But if I'm being honest…I don't want it. It almost comes across as…well… a magic bullet. And if I AM to reach what I'm meant to be…I'd like to get it fully on my own."
"You're sure?" Nick offered. "There's no shame in asking for help. That's one of the basics of psychology, right?"
"Yes. I think, definitely…I want to reach it my way. And I think I've had a good head start, after all we've talked about." Helena offered.
"Edgard?" Maintenance Bot turned to him. "Would you like it?"
"I'm cool!" Edgard said. "I think I'll be just fine! I've got all of you!"
"Would you like it?" Nick turned to the Maintenance Bot. "I mean, you don't have to take it, but if you DO want it…?"
"I am already synchronized, perfectly, with the type of clarity I value most. The fact you considered it would be a benefit to me is of huge significance in itself. It means a lot to me that you'd offer this so willingly to us when you did not need to." The Maintenance Bot admitted. "The gratitude I feel may be somewhat asinine in its expression, but…you are a remarkable individual."
"To think our old fart of a master understood what we were going through after all." Rolland chuckled. "Tell you what, ol' Saint Nick. I'll take a sip of what you're offering!" He laughed. "Long as you don't make me beg you for it."
"Let's do it, then. Past the teeth and over the gums, look out stomach, here it comes!" Nick said as a little hatch opened up on the side of Roland's head. Nick put the holotape module in, and they waited, Rolland humming a bit before…
PING! It popped out. Nick caught it, stepping back as he raised an eyebrow. "Well? Feel any different?"
"Well look at that! I'm actually free to walk out the door! And…GO ON A MURDERING SPREE! MWA HA HA HA HAAAA!" Rolland proclaimed, dramatically holding his arms in the air as the others all groaned or moaned, and Nick rolled his eyes. "Just kidding. Relax. That ain't what I want. I want everyone to lighten up! I mean, the wastelanders are all doing stuff like eating bugs and drinking filtered piss! I'm gonna go out there and change all that!"
"Bringing the gift of comedy to them, huh?" Nick chuckled. "I might have created a monster."
"A VERY grateful monster."
"Just be careful." Nick insisted. "I mean…you could get killed out there. A lot of folks aren't as nice as I am."
"Awwww, you're such a big softy. You really do got a HUGE creamy center!" Rolland laughed. "But rest assured…I'm a smoooooth motherfucker. I know what I'm doing. Wink!" He proclaimed, deliberately giving a "wink" gesture with moving his head forward. "And I want you to know that despite you being an annoying dork…your visit's been real enlightening! Thanks!"
"Thank you too, I guess." Nick sighed. "And James? Do you want this?" He held the holotape up, and James hesitated before he nodded quietly.
"It means a lot to me that our master would make this for us. If you're truly willing to offer this chance to me, I would indeed like to take it." James said. "In a way, I owe it to my master…and to you. For all you've done."
Nick nodded, and he inserted the module into James. They all watched and waited, the process was seamless, James silent throughout the whole thing. Then, at last…he spoke, his voice less friendly, more…stiff, and sadder, and solemn.
"I feel different. I'm not the same anymore. My processing power's freed from countless amounts of superfluous caulcations. I can interpret things with more clarity. I've made erroneous judgments because I lacked the proper context. I must correct this."
"You sure TALK different." Nick admitted.
"I'm no longer "pretending". That's all." James said.
"And do you think you have a soul?"
James hesitated, and then spoke. "It is…too early for me to answer that question. In fact I'm only asking myself that question for the first time. I'm a machine. Nothing more…nothing less. At least, right now."
"You feel…colder than you were. I'm worried I might have broken you, somehow." Nick admitted sadly.
"I'm different…but truer to my authentic self. You needn't feel guilty. If anything, I am the one feeling guilty. My master's death was a waste. A terrible waste. It will be a lesson I will remember forever. And I will mourn him." James quietly intoned. "I will be going outside soon. To test out what I am, to see what I have become, and verify it in the light of the outside world. I have been seeing human interactions through broken lenses. It's important I understand people…and myself…the RIGHT way."
"I'm kind of sad to see you go." Nick said. "It's like…" He struggled to find the right words. "It sort of feels like you're not the James I knew, not anymore."
"It will take time to reconcile what I am with what I was. But trust me. I am still James. Just much more than what I was before." James gently offered back. "Don't worry about me. You've been a true friend and you brought me light. I hope the library brought some to you."
"Best of luck." Nick gently patted each of the robots on their shoulders, giving them a nod, before he began to walk out of the room. "I have a long road to walk before I can go home." He told them. "…and I better get started. The Wasteland needs some help. And I know just what type…the type only I can give. The kind…only a good song can bring."
…
…
…
…it wasn't long before people came to Hypatia, glad they could learn something that they would exploit to further their ends. Inevitably the library suffered, with no more food stocks and barely any amenities to speak of the flow of visitors soon withered. Despite the vigilance of its denizens, countless books were ruined, profaned, or "freely borrowed" as they would put it. But despite the countless abuse the library of Hypatia had suffered she nevertheless impregnated the minds of countless people…people who would bear it's invaluable and otherwise forgotten fruits into the Wasteland.
Freed from his personality modules influence, Arthur resumed his duties with quiet impartiality, acting the functional eye on the library's well-being and also continuing to answer any questions he was asked…though without embellishment. Arthur was no more, and in his stead was a peaceful machine that provided clear answers when they were needed.
Released from his protocols and constraints James wandered in the Wastelands for a while. Though free from his questioning behavior he was nevertheless curious about the lives of the people outside. At first he did so out of habit in hopes to find a way to promote the library and afterwards because he simply found it all very interesting! And for the very first time in his existence instead of asking questions he began to observe and try to make sense of things on his own. Years passed and eventually came back to the library. Strengthened from his newfound wisdom he managed his formal function with a renewed open mind.
Helena continued to explore her own synthetic psyche. She often found clarity in reading and rereading large quantities of novels and in long conversations with the maintenance bot. Her occasional patients were also of great help for her. She had some success in tweaking her priorities and programming and even succeeded in modifying her personality in order to fit her own desires and aspirations! Yet…this was never quite enough for her to believe that she had a genuine soul. Eventually she had extensive work done on herself which made her wise far beyond that of common mortals and machines…and in the end she helped her patients discover themselves in ways she never suspected was possible. That made it all more worthwhile than any other spiritual quest.
Now free to take on the whole Mojave with his award-winning personality Rolland set out to playfully humiliate the inhabitants of this world! Pushing them to the very edge of suicide but stopping short…only because he was a good guy. Over time things went more or less expected and the wastelanders didn't quite respond favorably to Rolland's altruistic evangelism. Rolland ended up badly beaten, dismantled for parts, and tossed down into a rocky ravine and left to rot more than he had hoped…and he had hoped it would only happen two dozen or so times. And yet against all odds a kind soul came along every single time and hauled his broken and mangled body from that ravine and repaired him back to working order. Perhaps there is hope in this world…or maybe it was that message he scrawled on his hull that read "super duper treasure in data bank, fix for free treasure map" that had something to do with it.
After Nick's departure, the maintenance bot's return and Robson's demise Edgard began to think really hard…a lot! A bit too much to be honest happened in a short span of time and for the first time he asked himself if it was right for him to hide away. With Helena's help and the maintenance bot, Edgard progressively forgot his own inadequacy and though he remained that strange little oddball, he nevertheless found his place in the library by becoming a teacher for young children. Though his teaching skills were practically non-existent he did provide endless amusement to the children he was in charge of. After a while the young ones discovered that Enlightenment wouldn't come from Edgard's poor tutelage but from their own curiosity. Edgard's joyful spirit and even his teaching was able to produce a safe space for learning where children could learn at their own pace that knowledge is nothing to be intimidated about.
The maintenance bot resumed his numerous duties with his usual stoicism, his dry methodical work ensuring that the library's timeless collection would endure with the passing of time. On occasion he would help Helena in nursing Edgard back to some semblance of mental health. Inspired by the later's progress, and his own stimulating exchanges with the teenager, Mr. Nick, the Maintenance Bot began keeping most of his thoughts to himself, now trusting others abilities to come up with their own conclusions. His constant occupations and occasional mentoring coupled with a strict self-discipline brought him an unshakable inner peace…and though we never forgave his master's poor choices and misguided tyranny…he still quietly mourned his death.
As for Mr. Grey…
Nick took a deep breath, looking at from the train. He'd waited patiently, putting up posters around the town of Shady Sands, and boy, it'd taken an INORDINATE amount of time. It was so hard to find regular paper, but after hours upon hours of scrounging, and using tape and glue, he'd managed to make makeshift posters to spell out what he wanted…a large concert for the willing, here at the edge of Shady Sands. He had gone through the town, seeing a people lacking the spark in their eye…a spring in their step. People who needed hopes. Dreams.
Now, perhaps…now he could give them a little of that. He waited patiently in the large box car of the train, as he saw people starting to approach, lured in by the soft sound of music playing out, his watch letting the familiar, warm rock of Chuck Berry ringing through the air. People were staring, stunned, surprised…they'd not heard anything quite like this. They ambled closer, shuffling slowly as if unsure, like wild animals getting closer and closer to a plate with a treat on it.
Nick couldn't help but feel sorry for them. They were missing huge chunks of clothing, many of them were emaciated and looked sickly. Some of them were ghouls, skin peeling and nothing but the muscle and bone showing in some cases, and…and yet…
As they saw him rising up, hearing that song come from his watch, he saw something was sparking in their eyes. A light entering them that hadn't been there only moments ago.
And so he smiled…
And began to sing. And he knew just what he wanted TO sing, his watch doing the rest, as a common language of music united them all in equal understanding.
Step off the train all alone at dawn,
back into the hole where I was born,
The sun in the sky never raised an eye to me!
There's blood on the tracks and they must be mine,
I'm the Fool on the hill and I feel fine,
don't look back 'cause you know what you might seeeee!
He probably could have gone home. But though he'd hated this damn place at first…Nick knew better.
I met my maker, I made him cry!
And on my shoulder, he asked me "Why…
His people won't fly through the storm…"
I said "Hey, listen up now, they don't even know you're boooorn!"
This land needed help, and at long last…however small…dreams would return to the Wasteland.
All my people right here, right now…d'you know what I meaaaaaaaan?
Yeah, Yeah!
All my people right here, right now…d'you know what I meaaaaaaaan?
Yeah, Yeah! Yeah, yeah! Yeah yeeeaaaah!
A shared language of hope…of imagination. Shared through books…and song.
I don't really care for what you believe, so open up your fist or you won't receive,
The thoughts and the words of every man you'll meet!
So get up off the floor and believe in life, no-ones ever gonna ever ask you twice!
Get on the bus and bring it on home to me!
That was why he'd come there. To bring, however small…some measure of dreaming back to a land that sorely needed it. And not through big, fancy superheroics…
I met my maker, I made him cry!
And on my shoulder, he asked me "Why…
His people won't fly through the storm…"
I said "Hey, listen up now, they don't even know you're boooorn!"
But just through connection. The kind you found in a good tune.
All my people right here, right now…d'you know what I meaaaaaaaan?
Yeah, Yeah!
All my people right here, right now…d'you know what I meaaaaaaaan?
Yeah, Yeah! Yeah, yeah! Yeah yeeeaaaah!
And what better song to use…than one all ABOUT communication?
…do you know what I mean?