How It Ends: Part 1 - The Evaluation Read online

  “Going?”

  “Yes. You’ll be meeting and observing this robot Kilgore in action. You will then compile your notes and present them to DKI.”

  “Is this a formal evaluation?” Sidney asked. His heartbeat quickened.

  “Yes. And the access is unprecedented.”

  * * *

  It arrived at his office via currier. It was a thick package in a padded manila envelope. It sprayed gray packing material in the air when he tore it open. He dug through the debris with his meaty hands. His fingers rooting and then pulling out the packet. The word CONFIDENTIAL was splashed across every page.

  He felt a tingling sensation at the ends of his fingers and in his groin. He understood vaguely that this was excitement. He opened the technical manuals with a deep breath, as if he were about to jump off the high board in a diving pool. It was a mix of trembling anticipation and stomach dropping fear. Manuals and schematics and design documents and software diagrams were all closely guarded secrets. To be in possession of them was to be in a position of power. He was a knowledgeable man with a deep understanding of robotics. But rare it was when someone had the specs for the inner workings of the robots themselves. Especially not working prototypes like the medical robots.

  Not to mention the added bonus of being able to write an evaluation. An evaluation. A robotic evaluation. A document that would enter the worshipped pantheon of robotic literature. He had dreamed about such a moment as this. He had practiced lectures based on such fictional writings in his car or in his shower, and sometimes in front of his bathroom mirror. He had thanked the gathered crowd for bestowing upon him the award in robotic literature, presented to him by way of his dashboard. He’d dreamt of such a time as this and now it was at hand. The book he had planned on early robotics development was thrust out of his mind. A mental trash dump to clear space for this new project.

  He placed the documents on his work desk. He’d taken the time to clean it off before the package arrived. Everything had to be pristine for such holy relics as robot schematics. Everything had to be clean, readied for the sacrifice to these metallic gods.

  He placed the documents on the desk with the cover page facing up.

  He turned it over and began reading at page one.

  He pored over every word.

  His fingertips tingled with the feeling of pins and needles.

  This would be exciting.

  * * *

  He ran into Brian later that day. Brian was just coming back to the building.

  “On your way out?” Brian asked.

  “Yes. I’ve got some research to do.”

  “Started your new book then?”

  “No, not actually.”

  “What do you have going on?”

  Sidney did not answer. He considered Brian carefully. Should I tell him? Dangerous. Brian was not known for ruthlessness, but he was not above scheming to get what he wanted. There was of course no way to know if he wanted to take part in an evaluation or not. But he was a professor of robotics. Who wouldn’t want that?

  Brian was fond of power games. He was fond of young women. He was dangerous.

  Sidney was known for his fondness of donuts.

  “An outside project,” he said. “Nothing special.”

  “External? Nice. Research or consultative?”

  “A bit of both, I suppose.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  He could be so pushy sometimes, Sidney thought. He could be so insightful. Damn him. But he hasn’t really asked me anything. How can that be pushy?

  “Not really. Mainly research and interviews.”

  “With people.”

  Damn him.

  “No,” said Sidney. “Well, yes and no. With people and robots.”

  “Really?”

  Brian said nothing else but stared at Sidney. Sidney began to feel uncomfortable under the younger man’s stare. As if he were trying to stare into Sidney’s soul. Trying to burrow into it. Trying to steal it for his own. Brian struck him as the type of man one shouldn’t leave alone with small children. Not because he had untoward designs toward the children but more because Sidney suspected there was a strong chance that given the right situation Brian might eat them. His perfect smile split his perfect face and Sidney felt more self-conscious the longer Brian stared at him.

  “I have to be going,” he said breaking the silence.

  “Of course.”

  Sidney walked down the hall only a bit before Brian called to him. Sidney turned.

  “You know,” said Brian, “I have a research assistant who might be able to help you.”

  “Help me what?”

  “Help you with this project.”

  “I don’t need any help with this project.”

  “Of course not. I was thinking more of the grunt work.”

  “I like grunt work.”

  “Who doesn’t? But it’s so time consuming.”

  Sidney said nothing.

  “Her name is Anita. She’s a student of mine. I’d be happy to offer her to you.”

  Sidney shifted feet. Something made him uncomfortable. Something about the idea of offering a human to Sidney. God knows what services she provided. Perhaps this was a game. One of those games people play when they discuss one thing but mean another. Perhaps Brian was offering her for services other than this project. But how could he know? He couldn’t. He had to take things at face value. Otherwise he’d drive himself insane.

  “Offer her?”

  “Sure. I can free her up from her current research and you and she can embark on your research project.”

  “That’s generous Brian, thanks, but I don’t think…”

  “Come on, Sidney. I’ve got nothing going on right now. I don’t need her for research.”

  Another euphemism? Are we talking about sex? It wouldn’t have surprised him. Brian’s reputation preceded him.

  “And she’d love the opportunity,” said Brian. “The chance to study robots more closely? She’d love it.”

  It was hard to say no to Brian. He always seemed to worm the conversation his way. Sidney figured that’s why most of his student got B’s. At least the female ones.

  “Okay.”

  “Great. She’ll be thrilled. I’m seeing her later. I’ll give her the news.”

  “Okay.”

  “How about I send her to your office tomorrow? Good enough time to discuss things?”

  “Sure.”

  “Great.”

  * * *

  Knock knock knock at the door. As if someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. Sidney looked up from his desk to see a student in the frame. A girl. Young and very pretty with dark hair and loose breasts. This must be Anita, he thought.

  “Dr. Hermann?”

  “Anita?”

  She nodded.

  “Come in.”

  She entered and took a seat opposite his desk. She dropped her bag on the floor. It jangled the strange melody of loose items haphazardly thrown inside.

  “I’m really excited about this project,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Brian explained it a bit to me, though he didn’t know much about the details.”

  “That’s because I didn’t offer him any.” His voice was cold and his eyes hard.

  “Yeah, that’s what he said. Said it had something to do with interacting with robots and people. Said it sounded like an evaluation.”

  Sidney’s skin prickled and his jaw clenched. He had said hardly anything to Brian about this project. Certainly not that it was an evaluation. How could he have known? Is he that damn intuitive?

  “Well, we’ll see where it goes,” said Sidney, which was all he could muster to say. He eyes flitted nervously between Anita and the office door and his desk and back. He did not like this girl being thrust into his affairs.

  “Well, what can you tell me about it?” she asked.

  He leaned back in the wooden swivel chair that groaned un
der his weight. He folded his hands and perched them on his belly. Before he began speaking he had the experience of seeing past his own vantage, the sudden startling revelation of what he must have looked like to this girl before him.

  He sat up and leaned forward onto his desk, resting on his arms which were folded before him, hiding his belly as much as he could.

  He sighed. Working with this girl was going to be problematic. She was going to be a distraction.

  Focus.

  Task at hand.

  Focus.

  “Brian is correct,” he said finally. “This is an evaluation project. We will be visiting a robot currently in use at the geriatric clinic of New York-Presbyterian Hospital. Its name is Kilgore.”

  “Sounds great. When do we go?”

  “After we do our research.” He handed her a list several sheets long with his loopy handwriting scrawled front and back. “Take this list and begin checking out books. We need to research this level of robotics, which includes the history of robotics engineering, programming modules, philosophies and ethics. To start. We’ll visit Kilgore in a few days. In the meantime, get started with this and take meticulous notes.”

  He had hoped the length of the list would intimidate her. Perhaps she would decide the project was not worth this level of effort. But it had the opposite effect. Her eyes lit up as she scanned through it. She reached into her bag and rumbled around the contents until she came up with a highlighter. She read through the list and highlighted a number of instances where she couldn’t read his handwriting. She asked him to clarify the illegible words. To his silent distress she took a pen from his desk and wrote over his own writing to make the words clearer. When finished she dropped the pen back on the desk and rose from her chair, grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder while stuffing the list in her front pocket.

  “I have a bunch of these books already,” she said. “I’ll start with those.”

  Sidney nodded, completely distracted by the motion of her trying to stuff the piece of paper into the front pocket of her jeans. The motion drew the attention of the eye and his eye followed it for a few moments before traveling south along the seams of her jeans to the cleft hidden between her legs. Her jeans were cut low and dipped well below her navel which teased him from across the desk. His eyes followed her form up to her head, pausing long enough to circle her breasts and mentally caress her nipples which were just visible along the relief map of her shirt, and continued up the contours of her body to her face. She was looking at him.

  “Be back here at seven o’clock on Thursday morning the 15th. We’ll be taking the train in. Bring your research. We’ll discuss it along the way.”

  She nodded and left his office.

  He got up from his desk and peered around the corner of his door.

  He watched the sway of her walk as she left.

  * * *

  That night Sidney climbed the stairs to his bedroom and undressed, opening his pants, letting his bulky body escape, reached below and grabbed himself. He hadn’t seen his penis in person in years. He cursed silently at his dickie-do. His stomach stuck out more than his dickie- do. But he knew it was there. He knew it was there because of urination and mirrors. He knew it was there because tonight is ached. It hardened.

  He closed his eyes and saw Anita.

  He masturbated.

 

  Chapter Five

  Sidney and Anita took the elevator from level 3 to level 11. The smooth metal door shined their reflection. Sidney stared at it trying not to feel self-conscious, stealing occasional glimpses at Anita’s chest. She’d put a bra on today.

  The door opened. A robot stood before them. It stood slightly shorter than Sidney and was sharply dressed in a pinstriped suit and tie over which was a white lab coat that indicated a medical profession. From the collar of the shirt a short metal neck extended upward. It was topped by an egg shaped head that was a perfect smooth metal surface. The robot’s head didn’t have a face. Sidney stared at the empty sphere. He could see a funhouse mirror reflection of himself in the sphere. Anita stepped forward looking at the sphere with fascination. From somewhere around the base of the head came a quick flash of light. The egg shaped head appeared to blink and shimmered to life. The blank stainless steel faceplate was replaced by the image of an older man with spectacles and a gray mustache in full dimensional quality. A projected image.

  Anita’s mouth dropped open.

  Sidney was making mental notes.

  Amazing.

  “Dr. Hermann, I presume,” said the robot.

  “Yes.” Sidney stepped out of the lift and out of habit extended his hand. He paused halfway. The robot did not appear to notice his hesitation. It extended a hand of its own. Sidney noted the hand was gloved in latex. Above the end of the glove shone a sliver of metal before the rest of the arm disappeared up the French shirt cuffed with a pair of antique cameos depicting Athena, the goddess of both war and wisdom.

  “Yes,” he repeated. “I’m Sidney Hermann. This is Anita Lory.”

  “Good morning. I am Dr. Kilgore.”

  Sidney grasped the metal hand. It was warm and soft through the latex glove. It surprised him. He knew from his review of the schematics that Kilgore had an internally heated silicon hand. Yet it still surprised him.

  “You have questions, perhaps?” said the robot. “Many if not all of which are regarding?”

  “Yes. I do. How did you know? A guess, or …?”

  “I have a significant amount of programming designed for facial pattern recognition. I would be a poor doctor indeed if I were unable to evaluate human expression. The programming actually covers full body expression recognition. The official artificial intelligence term that is used is cognitive expression recognition, or CER, but that is probably more information than you truly need.”

  “Not at all. I find this all utterly fascinating.”

  Anita frantically rummaged through her bag looking for a clean notepad and a pen to starting writing notes. Kilgore appeared to take no notice of her actions.

  The robot had no physical imperfections, though the mere state of robot was itself considered an imperfection by some. Most of society felt this superiority. The robot was physically stronger. The robot was more durable. The robot was easily repaired. The robot had a faster processor. Some could even be programmed with emotions. But the robot had no soul. A soul required programming beyond the capacity of humanity. Ergo, the robot was inferior.

  “Perhaps we should begin at the beginning, as they say,” said the robot. “Let us walk as we talk so we do not block the entrance to the elevator.”

  Drs. Hermann and Kilgore, and Anita, walked slowly down the corridor of the geriatric ward of the hospital. The walls were painted beige like most hallways in most hospitals. The trim was light green. Soothing colors to those in this ward, most of who were there for end of life care. Sidney marveled at the robot as they moved forward. Anita looked up from her notebook and gave it an artist’s eye. She sketched a hasty gesture drawing. She scribbled a quick physical description. There was much to marvel over. For her it was the lack of legs. Below the pant cuffs was nothing. The robot had been fitted with antigravity generators that allowed it to float. Effortless movement.

  “Dr. Kilgore, have you been informed of the reason for my visit?” asked Sidney.

  “Yes. Your agenda was uploaded to me last night during my power and data cycle.”

  “Do you, then, understand the premise of this evaluation?”

  He had difficulty reading how the robot was processing his questions. He saw no holographic facial responses. He had to remind himself that Kilgore was not alive. Not he. It.

  “As I interpret your agenda, you have come to do a comprehensive study of the effectiveness of robotic doctors. Further, the fact that I specialize in the care and concern of the elderly and those at the end of their life, which in general is defined as having a terminal illness with a prognosis of six months or less left
to live is an additional point of evaluation, given my proximity to human mortality.”

  “Wow. That’s some interpretation. Nearly on the nose.”

  “Nearly?”

  Sidney cocked his head. Was that arrogance he’d just heard?

  “Yes, nearly. You’re interpretation is accurate at one level, but you dug too deep. This isn’t really about end of life care and the treatment of the elderly at the hands, per se, of a robotic doctor. This is the overall effectiveness of the robotic doctor program, no matter the field of practice.”

  “Naturally,” answered the robot. “I did indeed analyze at too deep a level. Thank you.”

  “What can you tell me about your qualifications?”

  “I have a medical degree from Brown University. I graduated magna cum laude and was given serious consideration for valedictorian. I did my residency at the University of Massachusetts Memorial Campus where I chose to study geriatric medicine. I was then brought back here and placed in my current medical position.”

  “Chose?” asked Anita. She was scribbling quickly in handwriting only she would be able to read later.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said you chose your field of study?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was not assigned in your programming?”

  “No.”

  “Interesting,” she said. She scribbled some more. Sidney looked at her. She didn’t notice it. Had she, she would have seen a nervous combination of pride and annoyance. He wanted to tell her not to interrupt his chain of thought, of questioning. At the same time she picked up on the outliers of this robot and his dialog quickly. Adroitly.

  I can see why Brian is so smitten with her, he thought. I can see why he keeps her around despite his penchant for disposable women. Girls, really. This girl is going to give him a challenge. Whether he knows it or not.

  “Can I ask why you went to school?” Anita asked, “I would have thought you would have simply had all the medical knowledge you need loaded as part of, I don’t know, some kind of base programming.”

  “A reasonable question,” Kilgore said. “The fact is that my knowledge, both of general medicine and the specifics of my chosen specialty, could indeed have been loaded upon brain initialization. However, one of the aspects of the robotic doctor program that was thoroughly researched was the social aspect of learning. I will retain anything that is placed before me. But to understand the social nature of both learning and medicine was considered essential to my development. My brain, of course, is designed around the concept of recursive intelligence, which means it is always learning.”