Parma was quiet when I returned to the warehouse the next day. One of the other scavengers, Olsztyn, tried to explain what the problem was.

  “Parma’s shaken up by what happened to Sheffield. They were close, Parma looked up to him. Seeing you again is probably making him remember what happened.”

  “I have not forgotten the incident,” I said, “It has been on my mind ever since.”

  “That doesn’t mean you understand what his problem is. You only looped a week ago.”

  “Looped?”

  She nodded, “I mean the Graveyard Spiral. When your brain starts running in circles and you diverge from the programming. There’re still more changes to come. Haven’t you noticed that your manner of speech is much more formal than the rest of us?”

  >> Yes. That much was obvious.

  “So what do you mean?”

  “I think it’s best if you try not to mention the incident. You’re a blunt bot. The last thing he wants to hear is you stepping on his toes and saying something stupid. Sheffield meant a lot to him, and to the others who work this shift.”

  “Would that result in more efficient work?”

  “Sure. I guess...”

  That was all the reason I needed to follow her suggestion. Maintaining the effectiveness of the team during a work shift was one of my primary concerns. I didn’t understand why Parma was acting strangely – or what about his behaviour gave me that impression given that every bot in Waterway acted strangely, but I did understand that Olsztyn was advising me on the best way to move forward.

  I went back to the familiar routine of sorting through the various piles of material brought into the sorting chamber by the exploration team. Labour bots were good at discerning the quality and use of any given object through a construction protocol that was designed for general maintenance and expansion of the facility. Robot hands constructed much of the Big Under. They needed to be capable of quickly identifying what they were working with.

  The items were dumped into a big pile on one side of the floor. We would begin from the front end and pick through it, separating the pieces into useful categories. Metal plating, wirings, fuses, circuits, computer components, limbs, tools, and miscellaneous items that residents may have been interested in using for personal projects. Saint Sauveur was well-known for requesting paint and instruments when there was spare room in a cart, and other bots did the same.

  >> Obsession.

  Wire. Metal plate. Fuse. Wire. Wire. Plate. Plate. Motherboard. Screwdriver.

  The longer I worked the more I felt a strange sensation of unease. I’d never felt unease before, so that was alarming enough in itself. Normally I would attend to my duties with the exact mechanical precision that was expected from me. For whatever reason that didn’t satisfy my restless mind. I started trying to distract myself with what the others were doing.

  Wire. Wire. Plate. Plate. Motherboard. Hammer. Fuse. Fuse. Fuse.

  The cycle continued for the next two hours. Every second that passed made the task more difficult. I had no idea why. When it was time for my mid-cycle recharge, I found Parma waiting for me by the sockets in the other room. I quietly walked to my place and hooked up to the mains, a small battery indicator appearing in the bottom right of my vision, more for the benefit of those on the outside than me.

  “Nothing to say?” Parma said.

  “Olsztyn advised me not to speak. I believe she thinks I lack the delicate touch to approach a complicated subject.”

  “She’s right,” Parma sighed, “I’m not going to get angry with you, London. This is what we all have to go through eventually. I can tell that you’re still figuring this whole thing out. This is the first time you’ve looked away from your work.”

  “I apologize for neglecting my duties.”

  “I know what the problem is. You’re getting bored.”

  “Bored?”

  >> What does that mean?

  “Yeah, bored. Your brain is recognizing that this repetitive task isn’t very stimulating, so you start looking for excuses to distract yourself or make it more interesting.”

  >> Database: Boredom is a human expression of disinterest.

  >> The word is obvious enough.

  “Should I seek repair from Dubai?”

  “No, no. It’s not a problem to fix like a broken joint or blown fuse. It shows that your mind is developing. There are going to be more ‘discoveries’ like this in the coming weeks. It can be hard to grapple with, very hard without another bot to help explain it.”

  I stared at a rusty patch on the wall across from me. The charging room was a small side-chamber attached to the main warehouse floor, with a window that looked out onto the main avenue that ran alongside the building.

  “I do keep recalling that incident.”

  “That’s normal. It’s not something you’re going to soon forget.”

  “I keep wondering if it would be better for us to bring tools to defend ourselves with.”

  Parma shook his head, “That’s how it used to be. Scavengers would take their own weapons on patrol with them, but eventually it became more effective to have a dedicated team of bots patrolling the area around Waterway. Sheffield said they were sick of scavengers trying to play hero and jumping into danger too. It was safer for them to run or hide, instead of getting scrapped and losing what weapons they took with them.”

  I internalized the information and considered it carefully. Perhaps the problem was that I was assuming the scavengers would act in the most rational manner, even though there came a time where that was no longer their main concern. They would grow obsessed with other concepts, or disregard what the logic core in their brain was telling them in the hopes of striking it lucky. In that context assigning that duty to a specific group and encouraging them to run and hide was perfectly reasonable.

  Dubai and the other ‘old timers’ knew better than me. They had been trialling all of these ideas for decades before I arrived in Waterway. It would be foolish to disregard their experience and experimentation without a good reason to. They had a wealth of data that I did not, but the question that loomed in my mind was if their disconnection from the Braincloud was affecting their interpretation of the data.

  The nature of the problem was that I, and the other robots in the Big Under, were now capable of developing both opinions and motivations that did not always lend themselves to the most efficient solution. This problem would grow worse for me in time – according to Saint Sauveur, Berlin and Parma.

  “Oh, and I should mention that the arms race has heated up in the past few years too. Back then they were going out there with modified power tools – but the Rampants have been showing up with more dangerous weaponry and stronger armour since Tidewatch came about. A screwdriver through the neck isn’t going to cut it anymore.”

  “Losing Sheffield was bad for us.”

  “Yeah, it was. But he always knew how dangerous this job was – and he kept doing it anyway, because he wanted to make sure that this place keeps ticking over. It’s the same reason he taught so many other scavengers how to do it. This is his legacy.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  >> Legacy?

  >> Sheffield continued his duties regardless of what roadblocks faced him. His priority was always to continue the maintenance of the facility, even if that was achieved through non-regulated means.

  Every part of Sheffield that was still intact was reused, as was tradition around Waterway. His panels, limbs, motors, servos, hydraulics, limbs and other components were carefully removed and stored for later. The Braincase was the one piece that could not be salvaged. Damage to that area was terminal, destroying the ‘ego’ of the owner and rendering them irretrievable.

  The Braincase was removed from the head unit and taken to one of the unused chambers just outside of the main city. At the end of a long, narrow hallway was a compact series of rooms with shelves embedded into the walls. The Braincase would be placed onto one of the shelves with a small label denoting their name. There were hundreds upon hundreds of them inside, but I had never visited myself.

  Maybe I’d end up there one day too.

  We returned to our job and continued picking through the piles of salvage brought in by the other exploration teams. We did so in complete silence. The repetitive nature of the task was obvious – although I was not sure how I really felt about doing it. Parma seemed confident that I was ‘bored,’ as if such a thing were possible for a labour robot. I had done far longer and more difficult tasks than this before, and it never caused any consternation within me.

  What my mind did keep coming back to was my previous thought about defending ourselves while outside of Waterway. Running and hiding our location was effective enough, but it did little when we were placed into a situation where we were cornered and under imminent threat. What confused me the most was why I kept considering the same matter when Parma had explained their reasons for disarming the salvage team.

  >> Parma’s analysis makes sense. Dubai is an expert on the topic. We should trust them.

  >> But what if the conditions of their data gathering were not ideal? The conclusion may be correct but based on faulty data.

  >> Is there any good reason to confront Dubai and the others about this?

  >> It could improve the efficiency of the salvaging operation.

  But I did not have the skills, experience or parts to fight. That was not a field of training that commercial industrial drones like myself were given on purpose. Legislators were once so concerned about the possibility of industrial labour robots being repurposed as weapons that strict laws were introduced to stem the potential of the practice. For example, the universal compatibility between ports and limbs was deemed to be too much of a liability, although the companies didn’t need much convincing when it came to removing that feature. It meant they could increase their profit margins by creating their own ecosystems that customers were locked into.

  Training data for AI Braincases was similarly affected. Companies were asked to keep a close eye on the routines they used to prevent signs of corruption or hallucination. Violent verbiage was strictly avoided, and multiple redundancies were added to ensure that labour and commercial robots never caused harm to a human. Perhaps there was an oversight involved – because they never considered the possibility that the robots would turn against each other.

  Robots were designed to maintain and protect property, but what happened if they ceased to view themselves as property? These strange, introspective soliloquies were interspersed with vibrant images and displays of decay. A bold blue rust spread across a piece of forgotten copper. A human man toiling in a desperate attempt to disassemble an old machine. An overcast sky that drowns your vision with heavy rain.

  Oxford standing over me with a blowtorch held against my cranium.

  A loud crash brought me back to the warehouse. The bulb I was holding in one of my hands had been turned into a pile of shards by my left foot. Parma looked over at me and frowned.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m not going to judge you for taking another week.”

  >> You broke it.

  “Is there something wrong with the motors in my hand?”

  Parma stared, “No. There’s something wrong with your head, though. Keep doing this routine and you might drive yourself crazy. My suggestion? Stop trying to be perfect like you’re used to. We can do this work with precision and speed, but now you can get distracted and make mistakes too.”

  “I was not distracted. I misjudged how much force to apply to it.”

  “Wow! You already learned how to lie too. You’re going to be one of us before you know it…”

  I remained silent and returned to the job. The shift was over in five hours and there was still much to do. When it ended I left the warehouse without saying another word to Parma. I wandered through the narrow, winding streets of the city and pondered what to do next. Normally I would return to my room and power down until my next assignment, but I was compelled to remain online for a little longer.

  There was a ‘desire’ within me to learn more about Waterway. I had been handed a lot of information by Dubai, Berlin, Parma and Sheffield since my awakening – but I could not rely on their charity forever. It was time to use my own initiative and observational skills to see what they could not explain in words.

  Without another bot holding my leash, I was able to watch the citizens go about their business without interference. They spoke with each other about whatever came to mind, from recent events to stray curiosities, to what they were going to do the next day when they departed for work. I stumbled across two bots who were in the midst of an intense debate about what colour to paint the outside wall of a newly built shack.

  Before I knew it, my feet took me to one of the places I was shown by Saint Sauveur during the tour. I was close to the warehouse again, but on the interior of the main building structure. This was a popular gathering point for those who weren’t on their shifts, and it also transformed into a market on weekends where the citizens were free to sell their goods and services. It was also where the request board could be found.

  I scanned the notice board and took note of what requests the other residents were making, and what they were offering in return for the favour. Fuses and small parts were the closest thing to a currency in the Big Under, since every bot could use them, but larger parts like arms, legs, heads and certain tools were less universal. Some manufacturers used rights management and hostile design to render their competitor’s parts useless on their models. Those useless parts would be traded away to a robot who could make use of them in exchange for their services.

  This was the first time I took a long look at the board myself. Fuses and essential components were given in exchange for work as a form of wage, so the board was dedicated to everything the salvage team would not normally pick up during their route. Limbs for limbs, leftover human belongings for whatever they had, and services in exchange for favours. There was nothing efficient about this.

  >> How do they ever find what they need with such a disorganized system?

  >> It seems to rely largely on luck.

  >> The right bot needs to see the request and complete it in exchange for the reward offered.

  The fuse shortage made this situation even more difficult. They weren’t any spare to use like a currency at the moment, so the ‘economy’ was experiencing deflation. Bots did not want to spend them because they were becoming more valuable. Anyone smart enough to find a cache of fresh fuses would be in for a large payday.

  >> This situation is precarious. Is there something we can do?

  >> Database: Dubai stated that the sector we were found in has been left largely untouched. We possess knowledge that may allow us to locate hidden supplies. Failure of fuse supply will pose a risk to the continued maintenance of the facility.

  >> We cannot defend ourselves if we go alone.

  Bots were free to come and go as they pleased. Dubai was adamant that what separated Waterway from other Big Under groups was their free assembly. I could grab a cart and go into the sector where they found me if I liked – although Berlin would have harsh words for such a reckless decision. My risk calculations were being weighed towards such a drastic measure. A complete loss of fuse supply would render the city inert and make future acquisitions impossible.

  And it was easier than solving the other issue that was being blamed for the shortage.

  >> Database: Berlin suggested that conflict with another faction has led to traditional trading partnerships being endangered.

  An off-hand comment from weeks ago during another routine check-up. Berlin was bad at keeping secrets, or he didn’t believe that sharing them would cause any problems. I was not going to be able to face down an entire gang of armed raiders. Defending myself during this excursion would be challenging enough.

  >> System alert: damaging company property is against protocol.

  >> If we don’t – the facility will fall to even harsher decay.

  >> There is no company.

  >> A rule without any force is no rule at all. London should use his initiative.

  There was one offer on the board that interested me the most. The battery unit that I was using was extremely outdated by the standards of the other robots, designed to be the absolute bare minimum to move from station to station so I could recharge. Obviously, that posed serious challenges in a facility where some of those charging points had been vandalized. It cut away swathes of territory that became dark zones for bots like myself. Beyond that, effective self-defence required a more powerful battery for storage capacity and power delivery.

  This Waterway resident was offering an upgrade. A Kawasaki Dense 25kWh battery. It was a significant improvement over the stock 15kWh Tezuka Dynamics unit that was contained in my torso. The problem was delivering what they wanted. The resident, Marbella, was asking for a stuffed animal. Any type would do – but it had to be a stuffed animal.

  >> Database: Office spaces in the facility are the safest bet for that kind of object.

  A decorated desk in an office space, that made the most sense. If I could sneak into one of them without being seen and grab one, then I could get an upgrade that would make my regular job a lot easier and more efficient. A win-win for everyone involved.

  I reached out and took the paper down.