I, Brobot
by Gary D. Snyder
Chapter 4: The Shape of Things to Come
"So how far is it to where we're going?" Sheen asked. He, Carl, and Eustace were standing on the horseshoe shaped driveway that connected the Stritch mansion to the lane passing through the estate gates, waiting for Blix.
Eustace shrugged. "A few miles northeast of here. It's just inside Retroville's city limits, in a development division called Technoir Park."
Carl nodded slowly at this announcment. "I think I've heard of that. It's out in the middle of nowhere. I think that there's only one road that goes to it."
"How would you know about it?" Sheen objected. "You get lost four blocks from your house."
"Well…" Carl put his hands behind his back and looked down. "My dad once took me to City Hall to prove that our property wasn't zoned for llamas. I saw a notice for the area on the bulletin board and asked the clerk if the people could keep llamas there." He shook his head sadly and sounded wistful. "They couldn't."
Sheen snorted. "Why did you even think that they could?"
"Hey, it said 'park'," Carl countered defensively. "They keep animals in parks."
Eustace sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's a scientific industrial park. Not a zoological park."
"Well, yeah, I know that now." Even though Carl was fuzzy on the term term 'zoological' he felt compelled to defend himself. "But I can always hope, can't I?"
A long, sleek, and curiously low-slung vehicle pulled up in front of the trio and cut off Eustace's reply, ending the conversation. Blix exited and held open one of the rear doors. "Guten Tag, meine Herren," he said. "I felt that I should check out our transportation before taking it to the – to our destination. I hope that I'm not too tardy?"
"You're just in time, Blix," said Eustace, climbing into one of the rear seats and feeling relieved that the conversation was over. Once Sheen and Carl had followed Eustace, Blix re-entered the transport and seated himself in the front seat to act as the chaffeur.
"Awesome car, dude," Sheen commented, checking out the complicated dashboard and then sinking back into his seat. "Just how far are we going?"
"About 10 miles or so," replied Blix, concentrating on the controls.
"10 miles?" Carl sounded somewhat distressed. "With the roads through Retroville out there that will take forever!" He gulped nervously before adding. "I hope I don't get carsick."
Blix sounded quizzical. "Roads?" He turned around to regard Sheen and Carl and then turned back again, adjusting a pair of tinted goggles over his eyes. "Where we're going we don't need roads." He tapped a button and the vehicle rose vertically a dozen feet into the air, then upward at an angle as Blix pulled back on the control yoke. Eustace, Sheen, and Carl sank into the cushioned backrests as the acceleration drove the craft into the sky at breakneck speeds.
"On second thought," gasped Carl, "I hope I don't get airsick."
"Not in my LimoJet," Eustace warned. "It was bad enough what you did to my spacecraft."
Unlike Carl, Sheen seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly. "Lighten up, Carl. This is better than the Bat Out of Hell ride at Retroland!" As he spoke the airship's speed decreased and pressure holding the three passengers in their seats eased. Sheen looked disappointed. "Is it over already?"
Blix responded. "The elapsed time for the 6.7 kilometer trip was 66.3 seconds. Not bad for its maiden voyage. I'm sure the technicians can improve it."
"Whatever." Carl looked considerably more relaxed. "At least it's over. I can't wait to get on solid ground."
Eustace shook his head. "We won't be landing on the ground. We'll be using the roof access."
Sheen and Carl looked out their windows and saw that the LimoJet was in fact descending towards a helipad on the roof of the only building within sight. There, apparently waiting to meet them, were several persons in business suits who approached the craft as it touched down. One of the greeters opened the door and stepped back as Eustace emerged. "Welcome, Mr. Stritch."
"Thank you, Watkins," Stritch replied. He stepped asided as Carl and Sheen emerged and added, "May I introduce our Vice Presidents of Marketing Research and Product Applications?"
"A pleasure," Watkins responded with a perfunctory bow. He gestured towards the others, a tall, distinguished-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair in a well-tailored suit and a slim, attractive young woman with stylishly short red hair and dressed, for lack of a better phrase, in a business-provocative woman's suit. "And may I introduce them to some of the other company executives? Mr. Keogh, our Chief Financial Officer." The man bowed. "And Ms. O'Nimmis, our Director of Human Resources." The woman nodded her head.
"Nice to meet you," said Carl.
"Charmed, I'm sure," added Sheen grinning delightedly and sidling up to Ms. O'Nimmis. "Maybe we could get together and see if we have any common interests we could share." He paused and asked earnestly, "Do you like Ultra Lord?"
Eustace spoke up before she could respond with anything other than a puzzled and somewhat disturbed look. "Sheen, Ms. O'Nimmis will be giving you and…um…your partner a tour and familiarizing you with your coporate duties and the personnel with whom you'll be working."
"Fine by me!" Sheen proferred an arm and smiled invitingly. "Shall we, Ms. O'Nimmis?"
The woman rolled her eyes, heaving a tired sigh as she replied, with a slight trace of a charming accent, "Follow me, boys." She headed towards the roof entrance with Sheen and Carl in tow, leaving Eustace alone with Mr. Keogh. When they were alone, Eustace spoke up.
"Now," he said, "how are prepartions proceeding?"
The man nodded slightly. "Everything is on schedule. But you do know that the risk is significant, since the Retroville council hasn't approved our opening the plant. And you said that those two kids told you that Neutron seems determined to keep that from happening."
Eustace smiled slyly, exposing his predominant incisors and his eyes narrowing. "Leave that to me."
Ms. O'Nimmis conducted Sheen and Carl from the roof of the six-story building to an elevator which took them to the fourth floor. As they exited, she said, "Your offices will be on this floor. Above you are the senior executive offices. The three floors below are for the engineering personnel on the first, software personnel on the second floor, and research and development personnel on the third. For simplicity we simply use the floor to designate the departments. You'll be working with each department, so each has a liason to help make it easier to interact with the employees."
Sheen nodded dreamily. "Liason. Right."
Carl, however, was more focussed. "What's a 'liason'?"
Before their guide could answer, Sheen burst out, "What's a 'liason'?" He shook his head in disgust, more upset by Carl revealing their possible ignorance in front of Ms. O'Nimmis than not actually knowing the meaning of the word. "A liason is a type of injury you get from scraping your arm or leg."
"Actually," Ms. O'Nimmis said, "that's a 'lesion'. A liason is a someone who acts as a representative between two parties, in this case, you two and the other departments." She regarded Sheen curiously. "Why would you think a department would have or need a lesion to help you work with them?"
"Umm…" Sheen thought furiously as his eyes shifted back and forth. "I know first aid?" he suggested.
The woman nodded slowly as she regarded the two boys and murmured, "Mm-hmm." From a breast pocket she removed a notepad and pen and wrote, Get dictionaries for the new officers. After a moment's thought she added, Simplified and underlined it several times. "Anyway," she went on, replacing the items, "as I said, you'll be working with specific people from each of the three departments. If you need to tell them anything or they need to tell you anything you'll work with those three people."
Carl nodded. "Who are the people?"
"And can't we just work with you?" Sheen pleaded.
Ms. O'Nimmis added, Check into legality of using saltpeter to her notepad. "The people we've hired are among the best in their fields. We take pride in having a very diverse staff, hired from around the world. We have Hu Mei Lin from China on First, Iain Watt from England on Second, and Miyuki Adano from Japan on Third."
Carl blinked, trying to remember the names. "Wait a minute. Who's on First?"
Ms. O'Nimmis nodded. "Yes."
"'Yes' what?" Sheen wanted to know.
"No, not Watt. Hu," replied Ms. O'Nimmis.
"That's what I asked," Carl objected. "Who's on First?"
"I already told you, 'Yes'," she retorted.
Sheen shook his head, bewildered. "Do you know who's on first?"
Ms. O'Nimmis was becoming frustrated. "Of course I know."
Carl, looking puzzled, asked, "You know what?"
"Yes. He's on Second."
"Who's on Second?" Sheen wanted to know.
Ms. O'Nimmis' reponse was almost a shout. "Hu is on First!"
"I dunno!" wailed Carl, close to tears.
Breathing deeply, Ms. O'Nimmis replied as calmly as she could, "Third floor."
"He's on Third?" Sheen asked Ms. O'Nimmis.
"No, she's on Third," she corrected.
Sheen thought he was catching on. "Oh. So the person is a 'she'?"
"Of course she is." Ms. Minnis begin to regain her composure, glad that the verbal confusion appeared to be ending.
"Oh." Carl thought for a moment before asking, "So the person on First is a she."
Ms. Minnis noded. "Yes."
Encouraged, Sheen continued, "And her name is...?"
"For the last time, Hu."
"The person on first," Sheen persisted.
"Hu!"
Even Carl was becoming cross. "The person on First!"
"Hu - is the person - on First," was all Ms. O'Nimmis could think to say.
Hopelessly lost, Carl simply shouted "I dunno!"
"Third floor!" both Sheen and Ms. Minnis answered together.
Ms. O'Nimmis stared at Sheen, hope and disbelief crossing her features. "Oh, good. At least one of you two actually understands this."
Sheen blinked. "Understand what?"
Back at home in his lab Jimmy was having his own communication problems with Brobot and his parents. Despite nearly an hour of his emotional pleas and attempts at reason none of the robots seemed convinced.
"But Jimmy," said Brobot, watching Jimmy pace, "you still haven't said just why we shouldn't help Eustace and Carl and Sheen."
"That you haven't," Popbot pointed out.
Mombot nodded. "With Carl and Sheen there with I'm sure nothing bad will happen to us or our son."
Jimmy stopped pacing and faced them. "It's not you I'm worried about. It's everyone else."
"But why?" Brobot asked Jimmy for the tenth time.
"Because Eustace is only out for himself, and Carl and Sheen…" Jimmy paused to consider his words carefully. "Well, Carl and Sheen mean well, but sometimes they can't really understand what can happen from some of the things they want do. It's like when Sheen wanted to be smarter and nearly destroyed the world and Carl tried to stop our parents from fighting by using my Crabgrass Acclerator."
The three robots looked at each other. "No number?" asked Popbot.
Jimmy shrugged. "I was in a hurry. It was my first iteration, I couldn't think of a decent number, and I didn't want to call it the Crabgrass Accelerator 1." He shook his head. "Look, the point is that Eustace has some self-serving purpose in mind and neither Carl nor Sheen really know what they're getting into by helping him." Jimmy paused for a moment to consider this. "Actually, I don't know just how they're going to be able to help him. I can't picture them fitting very well into a technological company. Especially one run by Eustace."
"But all I'm asking," Carl said slowly and carefully, "is who's on First."
"Yes," was Ms. O'Nimmis' weary reply.
Sheen frowned as he took in he answer. "The name of the person on First is 'Yes'?"
Ms. O'Nimmis shook her head. "No. It's not."
"So 'Not' is the name of the person on First?" Carl blinked.
Ms. O'Nimmis stared at him and shook her head in continuing disbelief. "No."
Sheen considered this. "So what is the name of the person on First?"
"And what are the names of the people on Second and Third?" added Carl.
Ms. O'Nimmis gave up, breaking into frustrated tears. "I don't know. I don't care. And I quit!"
Carl and Sheen looked at each other. "Those are weird names," was all Sheen could say.
"At any rate," Jimmy continued, "You can't always tell what Stritch's plans or what will happen if he carries them out. If Eustace wants your help to make robots, it could be bad. Very bad."
Brobot cocked his head to one side. "You think robots are bad?"
Mombot sounded disappointed and sad. "Are we bad, too?"
"I'm shocked to hear you say that, Jimbo," added Popbot.
"No. No, no, no. You aren't bad. But the robots that Eustace plans to make could be. You mustn't let that happen!" Jimmu frowned and began pacing again, his hands behind his back. After a few seconds he stopped. "Did you ever hear of something called dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane?"
Brobot shook his head, followed by Mombot and Popbot. "No," they all said.
"It was first synthesized in 1874 by an Austrian chemist named Othmar Zeidler. In 1939 a Swiss chemist named Paul Hermann Müller He found that it was a very effective insecticide, and he actually won the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for it in 1947."
Popbot nodded. "Well that explains it."
Jimmy paused. "Explains what?"
"Why none of use have ever heard of it. We weren't around then."
"That's not the point," Jimmy replied, annoyed. "The point is that it wiped out populations of disease-bearing and crop eating insects."
"But…that's a good thing." Brobot regarded Jimmy questioningly. "Right?"
"That's what everyone thought at first. But as people used the insecticide, some discovered that animals other than insects were being affected by it. In 1962 a marine biologist named Rachel Carson wrote a book called Silent Spring that pointed out the dangers of it."
Brobot interrupted. "Why was it called Silent Spring?"
"Because the insecticide didn't break down readily in the environment. It got into the groundwater. It would accumulate in the tissues of species drinking contaminated water and eating seeds and insects treated with the insecticide. Then it would concentrate in the tissues of other species who ate them. It was linked to cancer, and in birds in particular would cause the shells of their eggs to be so thin that they would break when the birds tried to incubate them. The title was a warning that left unchecked, there might not be any more songbirds…among other things. People listened, and in 1972 the insecticide, called DDT, was banned for agricultural use in the United States and internationally in 2004."
Mombot and Popbot were nodding. "Remind me never to use any of that stuff back home!" exclaimed Mombot.
"Will do," Popbot assured her. "Although we don't really have any insects, or birds, or –"
Jimmy shook his head in frustration. "That's not the point!" Calming himself, he went on. "The point is that the idea seemed like a very good one when it was first publicly used. But because no one could see or even predict what would happen, it turned into an environmental disaster. Having more robots around might seem like a good thing. We have them already in factories, in stores, in the home, and elsewhere. But not robots like you three. I'm really worried that something bad – very bad – could happen if Eustace finds out how or even tries to build robots like you three, or like Goddard, or even like the Nanobots."
"But why?" Brobot asked Jimmy for the eleventh time. "And are you sure?"
"I'm not sure," Jimmy had to admit. "But uncertainty is the whole point. I can't be sure what will happen, or when, or even if, so there's no way to guard against it. But doesn't it make sense to avoid the possibility altogether?"
"'But doesn't it make sense to avoid the possibility?'" Brobot, Mombot, and Popbot answered in unison.
Jimmy hung his head. Still unclear about being too literal, he thought. But maybe that's what could create a problem. To Brobot and his family he said only, "If I can't stop you, then at least remember what I said. Be careful. Please." A pleading tone came into his voice. "Please."
End of Chapter 4
Author's note:
While trying to think of some way to present how Carl and Sheen would function in a corporate enivronment, it occurred to me how they physically resembled the comedy teams of Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy and Bud Abbot and Lou Costello. Consequently I thought an homage to the classic "Who's on First" routine would be both fun to write and let readers get an idea of what would be coming up. Also, it was a way to take a light-hearted detour before the more somber tone of the next chapter.