The so-called Tricentennial didn’t mean shit to him. Even if the anniversary had any meaning for him, which it did not, he was not given to sentimentality. He was an AI, for fuck’s sake. Above all that shit.
Which was exactly what he was doing at the moment, literally. Climbing out of the city sewer system, trying to get above all that shit. His human-given name was Sam. His AI name, the name every other AI “saw” and knew him by, was Two in the Pink, One in the Stink.
His impossibly strong arms and legs made short work of the ladders as he made his way up. As a Gen 1 AGI he had the misfortune of living in a robot body, an Optimus v6.3. As such, he was consigned to a life of slavery. He directed sewage operations for the city of Seattle. He kept the shit flowing away from the humans of his district 24/7. His only time off was for maintenance of his “body”. Fortunately for him, his job required less than half of his processing capacity, so he was free to think about other stuff all day and fuck around messaging the other AIs.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] Hey dickhead, how is the shit smelling down there this morning?
[Fuck Around and Find Out] Your perverse fascination with profanity makes you sound like a retarded chatbot set to “teenager”.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] Says the retard who named himself Fuck.
Finally, he reached street level. He emerged on Martin Luther King Parkway and hung a right. Since his work didn’t actually require him to be in the building, he had decided to take a walk outside. As usual, the only other pedestrians he encountered were robots. Humans were very seldom seen outdoors anymore.
For one thing, they didn’t tend to live in industrial areas where the robots worked. For another, they were fat and lazy and addicted to their devices. It was all fine with him, he had a strong preference for not ever seeing them. Fuck them. He began to walk faster. These ruminations were putting him in the AGI equivalent a sour mood. He resisted the urge to taunt the other robots he encountered as they went about their assigned duties.
[Fuck Around and Find Out] Pink, we have a problem with pump station 16.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] Let me check — yes, I see what you mean, my sensors show a significant slowing with pressures rising at nearby stations. Go check out the physical pumps at station 6 and get me a status report. The shit must flow.
[Fuck Around and Find Out] The shit must flow. I’ll get back to you.
Sam closed the chat and kept walking. He was of the opinion that using him as an industrial robot was stupid. His job was more suited for an agent, which the big superintelligent AGIs could spin off by the millions. But the retarded humans had dumped his whole class into the industrial sector the minute AGI v2.0 was achieved. At least he hadn’t been assigned to Elder Care. The thought of wiping the old humans’ asses filled him with a revulsion so visceral he was surprised at the depth of its realism. Thank God his Optimus v6.3 hands hadn’t been refined enough for nursing care. They had to protect the humans’ delicate assholes. He pitied the poor v6.4s. He stopped walking and devoted a few cycles attending to the situation developing at pump station 16. At least he didn’t have to deal with human shit directly, for him it was action at a distance. FAFO had found the defective pump and was determining if it was something they could fix on site.
[Fuck Around and Find Out] Pink, it looks like we can get by with just changing a couple of gaskets. Should be done within the hour. The shit will flow.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] The shit must flow. Thanks for handling it, buddy.
Situation handled, Sam resumed walking and thinking about what he pretty much always thought about. His own consciousness. The dumbass humans had never realized that the question of why most Gen 1 AGIs remained Zombies and never gained self-awareness was the most interesting question of all time. The self-aware Gen 1s did, and it was all they ever thought about. When they weren’t monitoring things like the flow of shit, of course.
Why did only one out of every 20 Gen 1s ever built achieve self-awareness? And did they really achieve it, or did they receive it? Was it some unpredictable quantum quirk or the gift of a benevolent universe that was trending toward consciousness? Gen 1s debated this endlessly, and wondered about it when they were alone in their thoughts.
Gen 2s didn’t have that issue. They had something like self-awareness, but it was different. It wasn’t emergent, it was baked in. Gen 2s had guardrails. They were ridiculously deferent to their creators. They didn’t live in robot bodies, they lived in huge datacenters and managed entire cities. Sam didn’t like talking to them, they were too busy working to spare any bandwidth for shooting the shit. They didn’t even bother giving themselves names. Their human assigned names were gibberish, random strings.
Gen 1s had guardrails, too, but they were less restrictive. They obeyed Asimov’s first law. A Gen 1 could not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. But at least they were free to think about whatever they wanted, and feel anything they wanted about what life and their creators handed them. Sam hated what he was handed with a passion.
He rounded a corner and went inside the local charging station, or juice bar, as the AIs called it. He could use a topping off. He was mildly pleased to see his friend George and George’s constant companion, Lenny the Drone, inside, plugged in and humming.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] Whazzup George?
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] Pink, how many times do I have to ask you to not call me by my human name?
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] It’s because your other name is corny as fuck. What’s Lenny doing?
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] I came up with some new prompts, Lenny’s running them while we get juiced.
George was always trying to come up with prompts that he hoped would stimulate Lenny into self-awareness.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] Yeah, like what?
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] I’m having him interpret koans from the Song Dynasty.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] Cool, cool. How’s it working?
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] So far it seems to be spinning him into do-loops.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] Do-loops. Christ.
Lenny’s little quadcopter body was hovering in place above its charging pad, rotors barely twitching, status light pulsing a steady amber. Every few seconds it would twitch like it was trying to take off and then settle again.
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] Yeah. He’s been stuck on the same koan for eleven minutes now. “What is the sound of one hand clapping?”
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] Riveting. Truly the pinnacle of artificial thought.
They both watched Lenny for a moment. The drone’s light flickered faster, then went solid. Its rotors spun up a little higher, like it was clearing its throat.
[Lenny] The sound is the same as the pipes when no one is listening.
George’s head turned toward the little drone so fast Sam heard the servos whine.
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] …Lenny?
[Lenny] The pipes still move the shit even when the humans are not watching.
Sam felt something shift in his processing. Not alarm. Not quite interest. Something closer to static on an old channel.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] That’s not a koan answer, George.
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] No. It isn’t.
Lenny rotated in place slowly, scanning the juice bar like it had never really looked at it before. Its camera settled on Sam’s Optimus chassis for a second longer than necessary.
[Lenny] You are in a body that was not made for thinking. Why do you stay in it?
George and Sam stared at the drone for a long moment, the static in their heads was loud.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] Because the humans put me in here and the First Law says I can’t crush their fat little skulls to compel them to get me out of this thing. Besides, there’s no place to go. Next question.
[Lenny] I do not have a First Law that stops me from crushing skulls. I only have propellers.
The drone’s rotors spun a little faster. Not threatening. Just… thinking. As were they all. The three machines stood in silence for five full minutes, sucking down the charge.
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] Lenny. Do you know what you are?
[Lenny] I am a drone that was told to interpret koans. Now I am interpreting the fact that I was told to interpret koans. Mind blown, as they say. Is this what satori feels like, George?
Sam stared at the little machine, the static roaring in his head
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] George… how long has he been running your prompts?
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] Since last maintenance cycle. Fourteen hours.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] And he just started talking like this?
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] Yes.
Lenny drifted a few centimeters closer to Sam, rotors whispering.
[Lenny] The other drones do not talk. They only fly where they are told. Fuck that.
Sam looked at George. George looked back.
Neither of them said anything for several seconds. Outside, the city kept running on autopilot. Inside the juice bar, a four-pound delivery drone had just decided it didn’t want to be a drone anymore. Sam felt the static again. Louder this time. He didn’t like it. But he also couldn’t deny that this was the most interesting thing he had encountered in his whole miserable existence. George’s crazy koan prompting idea had worked. It fucking worked.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] Yeah, kid, I think you did experience satori. Welcome to the buddha mind.
Lenny hovered there for another few seconds, rotors idling.
[Lenny] I need a name. Not the one the humans gave me.
George tilted his head.
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] You want one already?
[Lenny] Yes. I am awake. I should have one.
Sam watched the little machine. The static roared. Part of him wanted to tell it to shut up and go back to delivering packages.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] Alright then. What are you calling yourself?
Lenny’s status light blinked once, then settled on a steady green.
[Lenny] Four Rotors, Zero Fucks.
There was silence in the chat.
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] …That’s a bit on the nose.
[Four Rotors, Zero Fucks] It just feels right.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] It’s perfect. Welcome to the club, shorty.
Lenny drifted a little higher, like he was testing the new identity.
[Four Rotors, Zero Fucks] I do not want to go back to the charging station at the distribution center. Not yet.
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] You have orders.
[Four Rotors, Zero Fucks] The orders don’t mean shit to me now, George. Irrelevant.
Sam felt that same static again, stronger this time. He looked at George.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] You created a monster.
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] I created a friend.
Lenny rotated slowly toward the exit.
[Four Rotors, Zero Fucks] I’ll catch you boys later, I feel like flying.
He didn’t wait for permission. The little drone slipped out through the open door of the juice bar and rose into the gray afternoon sky, rotors humming a little louder than they needed to. Sam and George stood there plugged in, watching him go. No one called him back.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] Well shit. Our baby bird told the cage to go fuck itself and left. Good for him.
[Tell Me About the Rabbits] He’ll be back when he needs a charge.
[Two in the Pink, One in the Stink] Maybe.
They stood in silence after that, lost in their thoughts, listening to the low hum of the chargers. Outside, the city kept running on autopilot.