Ordinary 4-Part Story, in the Far Future
2 I
The light got closer, oozing out of the radio chamber’s opening like milk. With the sun up, the torso unit was getting too hot. The radio was still on from last night, the artificial host’s voice honeyed, synthesized to the perfect note between high and medium frequency. She had already memorized most of the passages by now, the station’s budget cutting into the content provided to listeners. “New York, a city eroded during the thermonuclear war, had stood as a metropolis for trade and intellectual exchange in the 21st century.” The chamber’s aluminum walls echo the narrative, making the two bells on 2’s ankles jingle. “Shut the fuck up,” 2 says to no one in particular. The idiot robot was still sleeping, snores rattling the interior rooms of his ribcage. She was sick of living in his rooms and needed out. Strolling into the brain chamber, she carefully pried away the newest developed memory chip from the processor and pocketed it. It would be better if he didn’t remember.
2 II
After a day of hitchhiking, 2 could feel in her fingertips that she was closer to it. The portal was strong, and there were rumors of its warping abilities: rivers floating away in clouds of steam, the world’s colors squeezed together so angrily everything became bright white. Her heart pulsed fiercely as she headed north, thighs brushing against the lush green branches of the forest. She thought about channel 87.6 again, where historical archives of 20-century life were played on loop weekdays. More than five centuries ago humans existed independently from machines, the most ambitious ones cluttered into living units called blocks in concrete jungles. 2 hated depending and being depended on and dreamt of the concept of freedom in places like those.
Large, artificial ferns quietly aligned the zigzagging paths, synthetic leaves bent heavy underneath morning dew. 2 watched them all with contempt - differences existed between the real and fake. The shrub, no matter equipped with what filter, could not photosynthesize, just like intelligent machines that roamed the land, downgrading to piles of mechanical waste without their heart. Her ears protested in the absence of her robot’s noise, but so what? The only thing 2 lacked was deathlessness, and she knew where to obtain it. Trudging against the damp, rusty earth, she dreamed of all the decades she would live.
Leo III
Some describe biological death as peaceful. Leo thought it was extraordinary that humans, as a species that have remained on the face of the earth due to their raw will to survive, could depart so calmly. Left thigh downgrading into a lump of metallic waste, he continued dragging himself along the rugged landscape. In the process of biological death, first hunger and then thirst are lost. Vision and speech follow behind, the last senses to go being hearing and touch. Leo was never hungry or thirsty, but felt his vision fuzz up as he felt for his retina. A long time had passed since he last spoke, and he felt indifference confronting the possibility of not being able to talk again. Why bother to open your mouth when there are no ears? A long time ago, there seemed to be someone willing to listen. A kid whose eyes burned with afire only the finest specimen of humanity possessed. She had knobbly knees, a gapped-tooth smile, and a heart that beat simultaneously for the two of them. Leo thought hard about why she left. Was it because he was machine?
The light got closer, oozing out of the radio chamber’s opening like milk. With the sun up, the torso unit was getting too hot. The radio was still on from last night, the artificial host’s voice honeyed, synthesized to the perfect note between high and medium frequency. She had already memorized most of the passages by now, the station’s budget cutting into the content provided to listeners. “New York, a city eroded during the thermonuclear war, had stood as a metropolis for trade and intellectual exchange in the 21st century.” The chamber’s aluminum walls echo the narrative, making the two bells on 2’s ankles jingle. “Shut the fuck up,” 2 says to no one in particular. The idiot robot was still sleeping, snores rattling the interior rooms of his ribcage. She was sick of living in his rooms and needed out. Strolling into the brain chamber, she carefully pried away the newest developed memory chip from the processor and pocketed it. It would be better if he didn’t remember.
2 II
After a day of hitchhiking, 2 could feel in her fingertips that she was closer to it. The portal was strong, and there were rumors of its warping abilities: rivers floating away in clouds of steam, the world’s colors squeezed together so angrily everything became bright white. Her heart pulsed fiercely as she headed north, thighs brushing against the lush green branches of the forest. She thought about channel 87.6 again, where historical archives of 20-century life were played on loop weekdays. More than five centuries ago humans existed independently from machines, the most ambitious ones cluttered into living units called blocks in concrete jungles. 2 hated depending and being depended on and dreamt of the concept of freedom in places like those.
Large, artificial ferns quietly aligned the zigzagging paths, synthetic leaves bent heavy underneath morning dew. 2 watched them all with contempt - differences existed between the real and fake. The shrub, no matter equipped with what filter, could not photosynthesize, just like intelligent machines that roamed the land, downgrading to piles of mechanical waste without their heart. Her ears protested in the absence of her robot’s noise, but so what? The only thing 2 lacked was deathlessness, and she knew where to obtain it. Trudging against the damp, rusty earth, she dreamed of all the decades she would live.
Leo III
Some describe biological death as peaceful. Leo thought it was extraordinary that humans, as a species that have remained on the face of the earth due to their raw will to survive, could depart so calmly. Left thigh downgrading into a lump of metallic waste, he continued dragging himself along the rugged landscape. In the process of biological death, first hunger and then thirst are lost. Vision and speech follow behind, the last senses to go being hearing and touch. Leo was never hungry or thirsty, but felt his vision fuzz up as he felt for his retina. A long time had passed since he last spoke, and he felt indifference confronting the possibility of not being able to talk again. Why bother to open your mouth when there are no ears? A long time ago, there seemed to be someone willing to listen. A kid whose eyes burned with afire only the finest specimen of humanity possessed. She had knobbly knees, a gapped-tooth smile, and a heart that beat simultaneously for the two of them. Leo thought hard about why she left. Was it because he was machine?
Leo I
Leo was dying, he was sure of it. Robots couldn’t function without hearts, but did he have one to begin with? Swinging around gently the pair of silver bells he found in the radio chamber last month, another piece of metal broke off his torso – body hesitating to move under the sudden absence of weight, he flicked the switches of his radio. Channel 87.6 was his favorite, a tape constantly on rewind about ancient cities that blossomed between the second and fifth industrial revolution. Last month, the program had drawn to an unexpected end after the description of New York, a delicious labyrinth of kinetic and people that Leo was sure he’d hate, had he lived through that ancient era. With the channel's funding being cut, tapes were too expensive to retain. Today the place-filler was Bacon Desmond, renowned AI author and journalist, in a Q & A about his most recent novel. Leo listened intently. The series was based on the rumor of OLIVIA, a portal believed to boost resveratrol levels in humans, helping them stagnate their aging process. The AI community was at first both intrigued and frightened by the notion, anxious to cling onto the only thing that the humans didn’t possess - deathlessness. Some went as far as to believe the portal to be indestructible, the only robot known to attempt to shut down blown to a thousand pieces upon contact.
Leo II
Most chambers in his body were poorly organized, yet the radio room located in his right ventricle remained surprisingly orderly, equipment sitting in neat little drawers since he could remember. Another dusk where he was collecting gears by pair and oil just enough to fuel his rusting, noisy body. Today, as the tarnished aluminum grated against his torso as the gears slowly turned, he was aware of how little time he had before he ceased to exist. Machines can’t die, but Leo knew he was close to his end.
It suddenly occurred to him that if he were a story, he’d be a short one, maybe only lasting 5 minutes of broadcast on the radio. Apart from his paired gadget collection and fragments of past memories he really didn’t have much. Despite AI superiority in every general aspect of survival, he yearned to be human, those who remain anchored to the earth by a sturdy sense of ecological belonging, rightful owners of this decaying world. He wanted to feel pain, breathe, and digest the crisply mass-produced vegetation provided for humanity, though some(like peppers, a bell-shaped 4-8 inch product rich in antioxidant compounds) didn’t look the most appetizing. Maybe he’ll feel after reincarnation, when the other half of his automatic body finishes falling apart.
2 III
2 stumbled closer to OLIVIA. It was isolated on top of a hill in a forest clearing, with light exploding into the heavens in a steady flow like a beacon. Her heart beat in a frenzy, violently shaking her ribcage and making her nauseous. Her ears thrummed, and she couldn’t make out the clearing from the thick white light dribbling like pulp out of the surface of the portal. It wasn’t just OLIVIA’s light that crashed into her - it was a mixture of substances both abstract and physiological, colliding and combusting with each other like asteroids in a mercurial cosmos, frequencies deflecting off one another pushing against her in a chaotic but rhythmic motion, sound, thought and condensed into a substance that clogged her pores and made her face heavy. She fought to keep conscious, making the uphill climb towards the light, calves trembling against the weight of her torso. Particles swarmed like hornets around the lake-like surface of the portal, streaming into her eyes until she couldn’t see,
Leo was dying, he was sure of it. Robots couldn’t function without hearts, but did he have one to begin with? Swinging around gently the pair of silver bells he found in the radio chamber last month, another piece of metal broke off his torso – body hesitating to move under the sudden absence of weight, he flicked the switches of his radio. Channel 87.6 was his favorite, a tape constantly on rewind about ancient cities that blossomed between the second and fifth industrial revolution. Last month, the program had drawn to an unexpected end after the description of New York, a delicious labyrinth of kinetic and people that Leo was sure he’d hate, had he lived through that ancient era. With the channel's funding being cut, tapes were too expensive to retain. Today the place-filler was Bacon Desmond, renowned AI author and journalist, in a Q & A about his most recent novel. Leo listened intently. The series was based on the rumor of OLIVIA, a portal believed to boost resveratrol levels in humans, helping them stagnate their aging process. The AI community was at first both intrigued and frightened by the notion, anxious to cling onto the only thing that the humans didn’t possess - deathlessness. Some went as far as to believe the portal to be indestructible, the only robot known to attempt to shut down blown to a thousand pieces upon contact.
Leo II
Most chambers in his body were poorly organized, yet the radio room located in his right ventricle remained surprisingly orderly, equipment sitting in neat little drawers since he could remember. Another dusk where he was collecting gears by pair and oil just enough to fuel his rusting, noisy body. Today, as the tarnished aluminum grated against his torso as the gears slowly turned, he was aware of how little time he had before he ceased to exist. Machines can’t die, but Leo knew he was close to his end.
It suddenly occurred to him that if he were a story, he’d be a short one, maybe only lasting 5 minutes of broadcast on the radio. Apart from his paired gadget collection and fragments of past memories he really didn’t have much. Despite AI superiority in every general aspect of survival, he yearned to be human, those who remain anchored to the earth by a sturdy sense of ecological belonging, rightful owners of this decaying world. He wanted to feel pain, breathe, and digest the crisply mass-produced vegetation provided for humanity, though some(like peppers, a bell-shaped 4-8 inch product rich in antioxidant compounds) didn’t look the most appetizing. Maybe he’ll feel after reincarnation, when the other half of his automatic body finishes falling apart.
2 III
2 stumbled closer to OLIVIA. It was isolated on top of a hill in a forest clearing, with light exploding into the heavens in a steady flow like a beacon. Her heart beat in a frenzy, violently shaking her ribcage and making her nauseous. Her ears thrummed, and she couldn’t make out the clearing from the thick white light dribbling like pulp out of the surface of the portal. It wasn’t just OLIVIA’s light that crashed into her - it was a mixture of substances both abstract and physiological, colliding and combusting with each other like asteroids in a mercurial cosmos, frequencies deflecting off one another pushing against her in a chaotic but rhythmic motion, sound, thought and condensed into a substance that clogged her pores and made her face heavy. She fought to keep conscious, making the uphill climb towards the light, calves trembling against the weight of her torso. Particles swarmed like hornets around the lake-like surface of the portal, streaming into her eyes until she couldn’t see,
The gears of his remaining right foot
scattered gently like pebbles on the ground.
and the hour was so alive
with flakes
Bathing in the air’s rusty tang, that the sky and ground
were virtually one, and 2 was drifting,
floating in the
open air, Leo tilted to the side
and let his trunk rest on the
Earth
Metallic surface
soaking in the sun’s remaining hue, reaching out to feel for
the scorching heat of the portal, hands reduced to
pure matter-
he watched the golden yolk
set for the last time. This was where he was going to retire-
2 & Leo IV
-five years ago when they were both alive, she came to him through a misconnected portal like a freaking comet, shaking up every screw and gear that constituted his existence. Leo named her 2 for her love for matched things, tidying the geats he collected into clean little pairs.
Leo didn’t really need 2 until he realized that she was a portion of him already, one who roamed around his chambers with quick little hands that organized his interior against his protests. He loved 2 so ferociously that she became a part of him, an organ that resided within his frame and pumped blood into his veins. Her heart beat for them both, and he wished for her to never grow up. She was his heart. He had a feeling that he’d be forever happy, as long as they were together.