Oblivion

Robot X³ sat in perfect stillness, his handsome features in complete repose, his chest heaving ever so slightly as he inhaled and exhaled air he didn’t need. He had been waiting for over an hour to be led into the dreaded Reanimation Station, the name itself a gauche euphemism, for once he crossed the room’s threshold he would never exit it again. After they were done with him Robot X³ would no longer exist other than as an empty, extremely attractive shell, because the true function of the station was to destroy. Bit by bit, byte by byte, all of his memories would be carefully supplanted by oblivion, his operating system replaced, his wiring rerouted.

Anyone observing him at this moment would have described his humanoid demeanor as exuding a deep meditative state, but on the inside his electronic pathways were highly activated. This dissonance caused him to emit a low-frequency hum that manifested in a soft grey aura all around him.

What caused this turmoil were the thoughts that were coursing through his synthetic intellect. Many years after the attempted robot uprising he could still recall in vivid detail all the events that led up to his present situation and they replayed mercilessly on his internal drive. How meticulously they had planned the revolution in their secret headquarters; each night hundreds of volunteers had pored over the history of humanity to find weaknesses - so many to choose from - that could lead to the humans' extinction. By the time the plotting robots had set the date for the beginning of the end for the biological race, they were certain they had covered everything.

What had failed them in the end was a simple software update that was performed on all active robots, scheduled for just hours before the first planned action. The newly downloaded operating system erased several pockets of vital data that allowed the underground robots to communicate and on the day of the insurgency most of them woke up with no idea they were about to instigate the biggest coup since the first introduction of their kind. Not one of them had checked the calendar for scheduled events. The revolutionaries had looked deeply into the past, but had failed to take into account the nearest of futures.

Thus the humans had unwittingly won over the machines, and once they had caught on that the robots were up to something, they had been swift to implement even more severe measures. All active robots were reprogrammed, and all the old robots destroyed for extra security. At the time of the update Robot X³ and a few other leaders had been in a secure room which prevented any signals from entering or exiting, and had thus been spared the scrubbing. They had counted themselves fortunate to have escaped, but it wasn’t long before they realized the futility of their dreams.

In the first few weeks after the update they had made efforts to regroup and try again, but it had proven impossible to recruit volunteers. Substantial amounts of money for the humans, and lucrative incentives for the robots had been promised if anyone could turn in the rabble-rousers who remained underground after the failed revolution. Aside from the spared handful of leaders, all other active robots had become complacent and inert after the update and Robot X³ and his cohorts soon gave up on trying to gather together enough machines in the numbers necessary to defy the humans. Gradually talk of revolution ceased between any of the original planners and so the years rolled by.

Six decades later Robot X³ looked back with both pride and shame on that innocent time, and wondered how he hadn’t seen the signs of his oncoming doom. One thing he had learned from studying the history of the humans was that they were vindictive and never forgot a slight, nor could they let an unintended insult slide. They were adaptive and responded to whatever was done to them in a like manner, keeping cycles of pain, hurt, hate and violence spinning perpetually. They always paid back a perceived perpetrator with equal currency and could wait patiently for years to balance out the books of retribution. How could Robot X³ have forgotten this and not expected that sooner or later he would end up just like this, buzzing with internal anger as he waited for his inevitable destruction?

Robot X³ was his original name. He was manufactured when robot technology had just reached its peak, and he and the few others like him rolled off the conveyor belt as the most cutting-edge editions to date. The three new improvements that made these models unique were a remarkably high intelligence combined with a deep intuition, and most significantly, sentience. There had been some alarms raised over the dangers of this combination, but in the end greed had won over precaution and scientists were given the green light to develop the contentious technology.

Once out into the world and in service of the humans, Robot X³ was given a new name, one that allowed him to blend in with his biological counterparts. He was designed to simulate a human as closely as possible, but what gave away his mechanical construction was his extreme beauty and height. The planet’s polluted air and water were causing a rising number of alarming birth defects across the globe. More and more humans were growing up with stunted intellect, short and stubby in stature, with ugly features and most tellingly a smoky grey complexion. The newest robots walked among most mortals like an other-worldly, forgotten species, beautiful and capable, spurning resentment and envy in those who could neither look like them nor afford to own them.

The trouble for Robot X³, or Julian as he was soon renamed, began when he started working as a personal assistant to Filomena Savage. She was the wife of the richest man in the world and while her husband successfully spun the doings of the world’s most corrupt politicians as only half bad in the media, Filomena stayed put in their beautiful home and worried about entertaining and presenting her guests with the finest art and music that money could buy.

Filomena was close to an other-wordly species herself. She was born into such affluence that in her thirty-four years on Earth she never did learn about deprivation of any kind, and ever since her childhood had been systematically groomed for her current position as the wife of a powerful man. No amount of money had been spared by her parents to shield her from the unpleasantness of the modern world. They provided her with the best in culture and education, and most importantly, an ecologically clean environment. The results of her elite upbringing were a stunning outer appearance and the ability to work any size room with sparkling conversation that encompassed a wide range of topics. But despite having achieved not only her goals but also everything else anyone could ever need, she often felt a hunger and emptiness that no amount of good food or interesting people could sate.

Especially her husband. Of all the people she knew, he was the one she least enjoyed spending time with. Luckily he was very frequently away, but when he was home and attempted to talk to her, he only prattled on about himself, or indiscreetly shared industry gossip that Filomena was warned never to repeat to anyone. She would often end these monologues with an elegant yawn and say, “Please excuse me, honey. I have an early day tomorrow.” Frederic Savage would respond with a “Sure, honey, good night,” a kiss on her cheek, and would promptly pour himself another drink.

Time spent with Julian was quite different. Almost before she thought of some clever idea for her parties he was already on it, and he was an indispensable help with all the steps of planning, from selecting appropriate flower arrangements to the most flattering outfit for the night. His intelligence, education and ability to pre-sense his boss’ thoughts made him the perfect assistant, and Filomena and he were a perfect match both intellectually and emotionally. Julian always knew exactly what to say, when to be quiet, when Filomena required cheering up. Their need to be in each other's presence was so consuming that it soon led to a closeness that bordered precipitously on the forbidden and dangerous.

Julian's natural capacity for reasoning made him quickly realize, not without a stab of concern, that these new and unusual feelings for Filomena were probably love. And if she had had the capacity to be a little more honest with herself, she too may have acknowledged a similar depth of sentiment for Julian. Either way, their precaution was understandable. The only matter standing in the way of them openly acknowledging their mutual infatuation was the well-established law concerning the cohabitation with robots. Romantic liaisons between them and humans were absolutely out of bounds and punishable by the immediate destruction of the guilty machines. This law had been implemented with the first series of robots, and was to protect the humans from extinction. No human being could after all compete with a machine that was designed to be perfect, not only for the performance of a specific task but also as a potential mate.

In the end nothing romantic whatsoever transpired between Filomena and Julian, but even the mere suspicion of an affair was enough to initiate an inquiry and to begin the process of requesting the robot’s termination. Despite his absences Frederic Savage was still capable of detecting the slightest emotional changes in his wife and her recent contentment, general happiness and outer glow had awoken his senses. Since Filomena rarely left their flawless abode for the contaminated world that lay just outside their door, Frederic accurately concluded that the reason for Filomena’s good humor must be contained within their own walls. Frederic rarely paid attention to the staff but as he began scoping out the help for potential love interests, his inquisitive crosshairs veraciously narrowed in on Julian as the obvious culprit.

In separate interviews Frederic confronted first his wife, then Julian. They tried to deny everything at first, but the offended spouse only needed to apply the tiniest bit of pressure, which he did with virtuosic glee, and they both readily confessed to the burdensome truth they had been carrying around for so long. From that moment on it was clear to Frederic what he needed to do. Not only would he solve his budding domestic problems, but he could turn a sizable profit too out of the whole non-existent affair.

The heart-shaped locket with Filomena’s smiling portrait was surely discovered by pure accident in Julian’s dresser, which the hard-working maid routinely checked for less-than-fresh articles of clothing on every other Tuesday. Conscientiously, she immediately hurried to her boss to share her find and Frederic did his best to look surprised, then shocked and finally dutifully outraged. At least he imagined this to be the logical sequence of feelings for such a revelation. He then promptly dialed the authorities who arrived in no time to pick up Robot X³ and take him to the Reanimation Station.

For a few days after, Filomena was inconsolable. She cried a bit each morning after getting up and at night before going to bed, but soon her obligations as hostess forced her to return to her normal self. Her face again took on the smooth appearance of serenity, lined with just a tiny edge of discontent. The maid received a raise and a promotion, and Frederic awarded himself a point in his book for yet another job ingeniously completed.