woodwardiocom

-I was digging through my archives, and found this short story from 1997. I resisted the urge to do any editing.

A Robot and a Man
by Jonathan Woodward

An old man sat on his porch, watching the road. There was a distant gleam of movement in the direction of town. Someone was coming out to see him.

Tau sank a little lower in the west. He put on his sunglasses against the glare. This made it harder to make out the figure, so he didn't notice it was a robot until it was standing in front of him.

"Afternoon," said the man.

The robot was very old, obviously pre-Pulse, possibly older than the man. Its skin was gold metal, well-covered in dust. It had been damaged; one leg was noticeably bent, and there were scuff-marks and impact-dimples spaced randomly over its body.

It scratched absently at its leg. "Are... are you Mister Bennigsen?"

"Yes. What can I do for you?"

"They said I should... should come here. To you."

The man frowned a bit, and made a half-gesture with his hand.

"I..." The robot paused, and seemed to gather itself together. "I was in the city, a long time ago, visiting from another star. I was an aide to the Vice-Premier of Epsilon Eridani. He was visiting to discuss trade. I remember... we were riding in an aircar, with the Tau Ceti Secretary of Finance... This is Tau Ceti?"

"Yes."

"So much has... has changed. We, in the aircar, we weren't discussing trade. Theophil, my friend, the Vice-Premier, was explaining that I was a citizen, that I had human brain-patterns downloaded from Theophil's brother, and wasn't... wasn't 'property' like the local robots. The Secretary found this a wonder. He called me by my name... I had a name, but it is lost. He said he was pleased...."

There was a pause. "He said he was pleased to meet you?"

"I do not know. There was an explosion, and I fell. I remember seeing a building below me, and it was burning, and I wondered why. But then I hit it, and I remember... nothing from then for a long time."

"You were knocked unconscious."

A rattle came from the robot. "Only men can be knocked unconscious. I was knocked into a standby state. I woke up only a few months ago."

"But... there hasn't been interstellar travel for over seventy years."

"Yes. I slept through your revolution, of which the assassination of your Secretary of Finance was only a small part. I slept through the Pulse. I slept for three human generations."

Another pause. "I standby... I 'stood by', rather. I don't sleep. I don't know what happened to bring me back to myself. It may have been the fresh wreckage I found on my leg, of my leg. There was water in my eyes, and a long-since burned building all around me. I pushed the rubble off of myself, and went into the street. I asked a person for help, a small girl, and she giggled at me, and asked me to give her a ride. I explained that I was injured, but she had lost interest. I next saw a man, and asked him for help. He looked impatient. He asked who my owner was. I replied that I had none; that I was a citizen of Epsilon Eridani. He looked at me strangely, and told me to follow. We walked for two blocks, and I saw how much the city had changed. The towers were broken, and many buildings were dark. I asked what had happened, but he did not seem to understand. He pointed out a woman to me, and said she was a constable. She asked me many questions, but after the first few did not listen to my answers. No one answered my... my questions, until she took me to a repair shop. I thanked her.... Perhaps I should not have."

"Why not?"

"I... they believed me. They could tell that I was from Epsilon Eridani. They were very excited, and promised to fix me. They said...."

There was another rattle. "Oh, they said that I was not... not a citizen, that I was property. They said they would take away my self-will. I was a robot; what need had I for self-will? They would kill that part of me. They said it wouldn't hurt a bit.

"I don't remember if it hurt."

The robot scratched again at its leg, and peered up at the sky. "Then, why did you come here?" the man asked.

"They took away, and they gave. They gave me a need for an owner, a master. But no one wanted a damaged robot, a strangely-made robot for whom it would be impossible to get parts, a robot who once thought... was told it was a person. But the repairmen, they knew I was harmless now, so they let me loose to seek an owner.

"I have wandered for many months now. In town, they told me of you, and said you were looking for a field hand. I... need an owner."

The man's expression was unreadable. "Sure and you look intact enough to help out. I'll take you in. I'll take you."

* * *

A portion of the fence that went around the city ran through the man's property. It was several hundred miles of nasty barbed wire strung from thick, deep-set stakes. On the far side were the tough, scrawny range-hogs that would dig up crops and kill livestock, mistakes left over from the colonization.

The man was sitting on one of the wheels of his hauler, watching while the robot fixed the fence. The robot handled the barbed wire firmly and quickly with metal hands.

"You haven't... this part hasn't been maintained in a while," said the robot.

"No, no it hasn't. The government provides the wire, but you need special gloves to handle it. They said the pair I have are still adequate, but they have holes, holes large enough to really mess up my hands. So, I've been putting it off." He pushed his sunglasses up his nose, then adjusted his hat. "How... is the room comfortable?"

The robot wrapped and stapled another strand of wire. "Yes. I don't need much. What used to be in there? I noticed the squares of dust."

"Oh, boxes. Some old stuff from my, um, previous life."

Another strand was stapled. The stapler was pre-Pulse, and may have been one of the most valuable things the man owned. It made its own staples from ingots of metal, and could drive them through half a centimeter of steel plate. It would probably function forever. "What did you do, then?"

The man paused, and looked around him, perhaps checking for pigs. "I drove haulers. But that was before the revolution. Now I farm."

The robot put the stapler into his tool belt. "This part is done."

"We'll do one more stretch, then I need to take the hauler into town."

* * *

The robot was moving some of the boxes back into its room. The man had put them in his own bedroom, but the robot didn't need much room. He reasoned the man didn't need the clutter.

One of the boxes popped open as he moved it. He looked down into eyes much like his own. There was a robot head in the box, a much different type, but the eyes were similar. The other boxes held other robot parts.

"What... what are you doing?"

"You were in town. I was... cleaning up. Did you own a robot, when you drove haulers?"

"Yes. Please put those boxes back."

The robot picked up a piece of equipment. It wasn't part of a robot. "This is like what they used... to download... my mind into this body. To make me. Did... was there a person... a human brain-pattern in this robot? Is it dead?"

"No! He's alive; he's not in there any more. He's.... I'm him."

The robot stood up, and dropped the device. "What?"

"I was a robot, before the revolution. I... I wanted to be free, but I was property. So I joined... joined the revolution."

"They promised to free the robots?"

"No. Who would work, if all the robots were free? They promised to make me a man. That device... it can work both ways. They knew a man, a tired, suicidal man, and they gave me his body. He's gone, and I'm flesh now. I'm free."

The robot twitched a little. The man continued in a rush, "That's why I took you in! I feel... responsible for your situation! And we're alike, you and I!"

A rattle came from the robot. "We're not alike. I was... I am a man. And you... you're a robot?"

"Well, yes."

The robot took the stapler from its belt. "Then this won't hurt a bit."

(Copyright 1997, 2004 Jonathan Woodward.)