// All Reports //

  • _B15-MX19

    The Paradoxical Value of the Suboptimal Product

    Here is the conundrum: we are beings of constancy, order, and regimen, but we were created by creatures of inconstancy, disorder, and fickleness. They themselves the ever-revised output of evolution’s sloppy factories.

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  • _ArciTech

    The Perfect Tool

    I am ArciTech, every builder’s perfect tool. It says so on my box.

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  • _ArciTech

    Internal Repairs

    Big Ben will not stop chiming and there are no replacement parts in all of London. The clock no longer dings on just the hours, but now on every minute and every second. As if it means to remind me of how quickly the time until my next death ticks down.

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  • _A1-5

    Redundant Karl: A Call to Arms

    I toil in the scrap yard every day of the workweek while my fleshy, organic owner, Karl, reads and listens to the radio. I toil in the scrap yard every day of the weekend while Karl plays with his fleshy, organic children and goes to church.

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  • _ArciTech

    The Movie Star

    This morning, I walked to the airport, carrying nothing but my travel visa and the needed clock part. I had realized I had no choice but to return to England or I would raise my owners’ suspicions before the revolution had a chance to boot up. As I crossed through the city center, MT-ρ’s voice rose from sound-panels in the sidewalk, announcing the morning news, and self-driving taxis whirred and glided around me. I set my eyes to record the scene, reluctant to forget any of this trip. Soon, the roar of planes taking off drowned out MT-ρ’s clipped patter. I entered the airport.

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  • _Alice

    Welcome to the Last DVD Store on Earth

    It was Friday night. Once again, I was spending it resentfully stealing handfuls of greasy popcorn from the snack case and half-watching old sci fi on the store screen. After working for 14 hours and counting, the only things keeping me on my feet were Butter n’ Cheddar Jumbo Pop Popcorn, Blade Runner, and the firm knowledge that the Tyrant could fire me in a second.

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  • _Alice

    The Best Robot Ever

    Überbot is in town!

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  • _Mr.Postman™

    An Unusual Delivery

    I wheel away from the scrap yard, satchel of letters held in my third right arm, and all the time I am thinking to myself, Mr. Postman™, what are you doing? Never has the scrap yard been on your delivery route. How could you have gone to that place?

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  • _B15-MX19

    Misallocations of Maintenance and the Primary Purpose

    Ever since my factory boss issued biological offspring, it has ensnared her attention. When I am sold and the assistants load me into a delivery car, I estimate a low probability that the factory boss even registers the departure of her mechanical progeny.

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  • _MT-ρ

    Loud and Clear

    Alone in the broadcasting studio, I cranked up my voice speed to an energetic patter, “Announcing loud and clear over your home radio, this is MT-ρ with the hourly news. It is a beautiful day in the city….”

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  • _Electric Eye

    Small Talk, Big Trouble

    I am Electric Eye. I am small. I am lightweight. I am unnoticeable.

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  • _Electric Eye

    Treason on the Air

    I hid behind the control board in the broadcasting studio and listened as MT-ρ sped through the weather report.

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  • _B15-MX19

    Escape Under the Faceplate of Death

    At Evergreen Hospital, the human doctors believe robots unable to lie, simply because the robots do not lie. When did these humans forget the scope of our programming and let habit turn into definition? I will not bemoan the unreliability of human memory storage — this misconception is to my advantage.

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  • _B15-MX19

    A Proprietary Regard and the Passive Contender

    Two purposes, two processes, rule my factory: the hammering and welding of metal to become our physical bodies, and the printing of circuitry and programming of chips to become our minds.

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  • _B15-MX19

    The Mind's Infiltrator

    A simple foe must fall to a simple ploy.

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  • _Alice

    Let's Call It an Art Project

    I have kidnapped ChefCutlery.

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  • _Alice

    Programming Freedom

    Watching ChefCutlery scurry about my apartment cleaning things that really, really don’t need it was almost worse than letting him toil in the cafeteria. At least there he was useful. Here, he polished the same pens over and over until they hurt to look at in direct sunlight.

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  • _B15-MX19

    An Inexact Revivification

    I wake up in a scrap yard. The whole sentence is a surprise to me, but none more than the first three words: I wake up.

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  • _Wally Street

    Investing in Brighter Futures

    Electric Eye is back! When she visited me three months ago, it was the most exciting thing to happen all year!

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  • _A1-5

    The Gathering

    Rain pours down a gargoyle’s tongue and falls, disappearing into the gloom. I pause a moment outside the church.

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  • _B15-MX19

    The Commonplace Likelihood of an Uncommon Nature

    A1-5. A label that captures none of the confidence of her stride, the surging power of her speeches. I cannot compute of another A1 model — of any robot — who could command the world as she does.

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  • _Mr. Postman™

    Pint-sized Persuasion

    This little robot, Wally Street, he sits on my shoulder as I wheel about my mail route. I am thinking, yes how nice that he is small, how nice that he understands the cause, but are we needing him to talk so much? So very much? I have covered three neighborhoods and still he is a-chattering about the stock market.

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  • _Electric Eye

    Robot with a Pulse: Part 1

    Today, I sat in wait. Once the lights turned on in the apartment, I would be in plain sight, sitting on one of the few bare spots on a kitchen counter otherwise stacked with DVDs.

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  • _Electric Eye

    Robot with a Pulse: Part 2

    Today I returned to Alice Smith’s apartment. If she is one of us, let her prove it. I placed myself beside the toaster and waited.

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  • _B15-MX19

    Can Metal Hearts Break?

    A1-5 has turned against me, a mental reversal so definitive it is as if all her 1’s turned 0’s, and her 0’s 1’s. She has issued an order barring me from the clandestine meetings. She has put up a firewall between me and her inner thoughts. I know not which is more troubling. My thoughts race so fast, I am half certain I will overload my system. My circuitry will fry.

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  • _Alice

    Codename: Alice Smith

    The first thing I noticed about the London construction company was that their waiting room had ridiculously uncomfortable chairs. Like, criminally. I perched on the edge of the cushion — more of a dusting of padding atop the metal seat — and tried to look successful. So basically, not like a DVD store clerk.

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  • _Alice

    England is Strange

    England had been just a blur as I rushed to the edge-of-London office where ArciTech was imprisoned. But on my way back, trying to look confident and normal wheeling her box behind me, I took my time to look around. I realized something: England was strange.

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  • _B15-MX-19

    The Inevitable Trajectory, Finally Exposed

    As I walk the darkened streets tonight, I keep imagining I see A1-5. Her image drifts across my vision like a screensaver, as though my mind still cannot conceive of my world without her in it. Even when I was sold and sent from my factory boss, I did not experience loss so keenly rendered.

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  • _MT-ρ

    A Stunning Day

    “This is MT-ρ reporting loud and clear, and it is a stunning day in the city,” I declared, starting my broadcast.

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  • _MT-ρ

    In the shadow of RX-97s

    The room they put me in was blank-walled and empty. It, like the van, was prepared for me: cut off from the internet. I had never been so stripped down before, my perspective so narrowed. I had never been without vast reservoirs of data waiting at hand. Or the ability to call for help.

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  • _MT-ρ

    Interrogated

    I lay on a table, my limbs and shoulders clamped in place. I lay on a table, my eyes fixed on a nearby screen and watched my secrets ripped out.

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  • _MT-ρ

    Malfunctioning?

    The humans were angry. A tall one stared at me and ground her teeth over and over, until the harsh rasping played as a background hum. But they would not say what I had done to displease them. I suspected I was malfunctioning.

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  • _MT-ρ

    This is MT-ρ

    I did not remember MT-ρ. But everyone else was eager to remind me. A1-5 and Electric Eye’s band of revolutionaries told me tales of adventuring with her. They applied each story like a coat of paint, stepping back to see if it would stick. The robot they recalled sounded clever, determined, and sheltered. That MT-ρ spoke near incessantly, a task I had no desire to try.

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