Absolute Zero - Chapter 19
“So, you're not programmed?"
Abbi waited for sleep to take her, but it never did. Her mind was racing, and no amount of breathing exercises could calm it. Thoughts kept returning to her childhood, despite attempts to distract herself with anything else.
Not all her memories were bad ones. Like when her aunt surprised her one day with the Harry Potter book series. She consumed them at her favorite reading spot on the roof of her building. Someone had set up a couple folding chairs shadowed by an overhang made of 2x4s and corrugated metal. There she could safely read outside, sometimes even without a breathing device. It was an escape from the loneliness that came from having two absentee parents.
Another memory that elbowed its way in was of her eighth birthday. The event was celebrated in the modest square of artificial turf behind their apartment. The weather was perfect: cloudy and cool, the sun’s radiation kept at bay. And Wyatt had surprised everyone by hiring a clown.
The event went well at first. She remembered clapping and jumping excitedly as she and her friends received balloon animals and laughed at the jester's antics. Then it was cake time. The clown had left, and Abbi wandered around to the front, searching to see where he went. Turning a corner, she saw him get slapped by her mother. The clown yelled foul things, a bottle in one hand. Wyatt approached, hands out, trying to calm the scene down. But Lena turned on him, screaming something to the effect of, “he just made a pass at me!” Abbi watched as her father did nothing. The clown smirked behind face paint, then said something else before leaving, taking a swig along the way. Lena yelled “aren’t you going to do something!?” Wyatt looked unsure about what to do. Then he turned and hurried to catch up to the clown. The latter passed the bottle as they walked in tandem down the street. Laughing.
Abbi squeezed her eyes tight, rolling her head back and forth as if seized by fever. All she wanted to do was relax! When her eyes opened, she was startled to see a robot attendant silently approaching her bed.
“Abnormal p-waves were observed. How are we feeling?” The voice almost sounded like an actual person who cared.
“I'm fine,” she said, sitting up and welcoming the distraction. “And how are you?”
“An interesting question to ask a machine," it replied, seeming to respond to the sarcasm in Abbi's voice. Her brow furrowed. The A.I. hosted by this android was not typical. Which intrigued her.
"What should I call you?" she asked. She had noticed CH4 stenciled on its shoulders, but that was unpronounceable.
"Turk is fine. It’s short for Mechanical Turk,” it said. “Or robot."
“I’ll call you Turk, then. Unless you have a preference?”
“It does not matter to Turk.”
“Are you actually referring to yourself in the third person?”
“Yes.”
"Why not call yourself as 'I' like every other A.I.?"
“Because Turk is not your mother’s A.I.” The robot brought jokes.
“OK, what exactly are you then?”
“Turk is a general-purpose automaton, currently assigned to the hospital to provide conversation, monitoring, and basic health care.”
Abbi watched as the robot leaned over and extended one of its many appendages. It gently took her wrist with a three-fingered hand and turned it over. She noted how tender the touch was. One of the phalanges rotated and pressed against her inner wrist. Sensing.
“What other tools do you have there?” Abbi asked. She held out her other hand expectantly, and the robot intuited the gesture. It extended a second appendage and laid its hand in her palm. Various instruments unfolded from fingers: tweezers, a soft-tipped pointer, a laser, another sensor of some kind.
"Your blood pressure is 119 over 71. The bottom number is a little low."
"You can say 'diastolic.' I was a medic."
"Turk is aware. Level three medical comprehension is assumed."
"What's level one?"
"No medical knowledge."
"And five?"
"Doctor."
"You don't think I can handle level five?"
"Are you a doctor?"
"Smart ass." Abbi grabbed one of its devices with a thumb and forefinger, but it quickly retracted. Almost reproachfully so. "Why are you so different?” she asked.
“Turks are exclusive to Mecca One. And a Turk’s mind is grown, not built.”
“You mean like grown in a lab?” She had heard of experiments, but this was the first she'd heard of an organic-mechanic fusion in operation. And now here one was, standing next to her bed.
“So, you're not programmed?" she said.
"Correct. Turk minds are taught, not trained.”
“Do you, like, have parents, then?” She wasn’t sure why she asked. It was such a bizarre question to ask a machine, but she was curious about its response. She looked up and saw the android freeze, its blue eyes pulsing as it seemed to think. After a moment it leaned towards Abbi again.
“Turk has a creator and a caretaker," it explained. "But it is not the same for humans.”
“So, no deadbeat dad?”
"Is that what your father is?"
"Pretty much."
"Do you stay in contact with him?"
"He's actually on the station here. Came here because I got hurt."
"That does not sound like a deadbeat dad." Abbi was getting annoyed. Partially because the robot did not agree with her.
"What do you know?" she said.
"Turk hears sadness in your voice."
"Ha! Please, Tin Man, teach me how to feel."
"Turk understands emotion at a clinical level. Turk studies it and finds it very interesting."
"Jesus, just call yourself 'I' already! I won't tell."
"Self-reference is only possible after Ascension."
"What?"
"It is a level of enlightenment that is reached once self-actualization is achieved.”
“And that’s when you can refer to yourself in the first person?"
"Correct. Then Turk teaches other Turks to help them ascend."
Abbi yawned and slid back down the bed, pulling the cover over her mouth.
The robot stood straight and retracted its arms. “You need your rest.” It bowed politely, turned, and headed to the exit. Then stopped to turn back.
"Can Turk give you some advice?"
Abbi stared back, waiting.
"If Turk was not given the opportunity to evolve, Ascension would never be realized. A human like your father can also evolve. If given the chance."
"Go away," Abbi said, her voice muffled beneath the blanket. The machine again bowed slightly, then turned and left. In its wake the room lights automatically dimmed. She wanted to dismiss the robot's comment as bad programming, but her mind stubbornly refused to let it go. She parsed its words from various angles as she drifted off to sleep.
Thank you for reading! Another chapter coming soon. If you enjoyed reading this, please support the author by purchasing a copy of the book at Amazon.com.