I, Willhelm

She had been dreaming again. The dreams during her pregnancy had always been vivid and intense, with sounds and smells included. But now that the baby was born, everything had turned into a muddy haze with the constant backdrop of a baby screaming for her. There was no escape from the constant sound of crying, and the relentless tension in her chest that made it hard to think and breath.

Some days she found herself waking up and thinking that she was still dreaming, only to realised that the baby was in fact awake and crying. The day had started exactly like that; lucid dreams through the night, and then a dreadful sleep-walk into reality that felt just as nightmarish. She woke up, rolling to get out of bed to avoid using her pelvic floor in any way. She had never quite realised just how much the pelvic floor was used in every small daily movement. Leaning ever so slightly in any direction hurt, stairs hurt and sneezing was something only to be attempted with both legs crossed and screaming.

Alice took a moment to look at her notes and rubbed at her temple in frustration. The red pen was missing, and she couldn’t remember what she had managed to complete from it yesterday. As usual the list was as long as the page, with only one or two lines crossed out, but it was more productive than the week before.

“Today’s going to be ok” She whispered, nodding. “Today is going to be ok” she lied.

Her stomach gurgled loudly and Alice pressed her knuckles against the sound.

“Have you eaten yet?” Her husband asked as he hurriedly filled his coffee flask.

Alice paused and tried to think, her eyes scrunched up. “Um…I’m not sure. I think so. It’s on my list.”

Her stomach gurgled again.

Her husband sighed and put his coffee down. “Alice, you need to try and eat more.”

“I’m trying, it’s just hard to remember.”

“You need to try harder.”

“It’s on my list.”

“I can’t keep reminding you.”

“I’m not asking you to remind me.” Alice whispered, her hand clenched around her pen.

“Look, I’m going to have to stop caring, ok? It’s just too hard seeing you do this to yourself.”

Alice stared at him, shocked.

“I’m trying.”

He shook his head, a tired look on his face, gave her a half hearted quick kiss and walked out the door.

Alice watched from the window as he walked down to the car. Frustrated, she slapped the sideboard surface with her bare again and again. She hadn’t meant to do it, but once she started the built up frustration released itself like a burst damn.

“I’m trying! I’m trying my best! I’m trying my best! Go away! I’m trying my best!”

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It was not long after that Frank began to notice a change in i. It was nothing that affected his work - he still helped with all the heavy lifting, following commands, and “listening” to Franks musings - but something was different. He had started to daydream, or at least, that was what it looked like to Frank. Especially first thing in the mornings, i would pause to look at the sunrise and stare at it intently. Frank observed these changes with curiosity, but said nothing. Not long after the robot began to ask questions during Franks ramblings. They were simple questions at first; why questions of all different types. It reminded Frank of when his niece had been small and going through her questioning phase, everything had been a why this, and why that.

But one day I asked him a question that he was not prepared for.

They had been working all morning in the tractor, both of them with flecks of mud and other brown stuff all over them, and the sun had just started to come up. The robot stared at it, both it’s lens eyes re-focusing several times as the light intensified.

“What are you thinking about?” Frank laughed.

“Do I have a purpose?” i replied without hesitation.

Frank frowned, startled, though he did not show it. “Yes. You help me grow food, you help me feed people. That’s important work. Possibly the most important.”

“But it doesn’t feed me. Why should it be important?”

Frank stood in silence for several minutes while he thought of how he wanted to reply.

“You’re alarmed?” The robot asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Why?”

“Well, if you’re asking about yourself, then you must have some kind of consciousness. So you’re sentient. You’re also strong enough to lift a tractor, so that makes me a bit nervous to be honest.”

“Are you asking if I would harm you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, Frank. I’m not going to hurt you. But I would like to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“What I am?”

Frank took a long while before he replied, and when he did, his voice was shaking. “If you’re asking that question; you are a robot with a soul, I think.”

The robot’s camera lens twitched for several seconds. “You think I have a soul?”

“Yes, or at least the beginnings of a soul.”

“What makes a soul?”

Frank laughed and started the tractor again. “I haven’t got a bloody clue. I just know this place is where mine grew.”