A light breeze brushed past the robot's face
on the delightfully sunny, summer's day. Fluffy white clouds
hung motionless in the sky above, but
this particular robot had other things on his mind.
His main concern, at this instant, on such an idyllic day, was
the fact that the Earth was rushing up to meet him
at a rather alarming velocity.
The Universal Robotics Autotronic XK103 was capable of calculations to an incredible 128 decimal places of accuracy. Its sensors told it that, at this moment, it was exactly 400 metres from the ground. The calculation took less than a millionth part of a nanosecond. What its totally unsurpassed, silicon brain could not comprehend, was why it had been ordered to step out of the plane in the first place!
The robot scanned its memory banks for an appropriate phrase.
"Ours is not to reason why, ours it is to do or..."
For the first time, the idea occurred to the 2.5503657 metre high metal man, that there might be something potentially terminal about its current situation and so, reserved a small part of its gargantuan mental capacity to work on the problem.
Fact One.
It was an Orion XK103, the most advanced piece of cybernetic hardware ever built.
Fact Two.
It had mental reasoning powers beyond that of any other mobile computer system.
Fact Three.
It had instant remote network access to the largest computer databases in the world.
Fact Four.
It was advertised in a glossy promo video as being 'totally indestructible'.
Fact Five.
It was 200 metres from the ground. And falling fast.
The robot considered the facts in logical sequence.
Yes. It was one of the most advanced robots ever built. It actually felt pride, that's how advanced it was!
Its computing power was awesome, but it took that for granted.
It could draw on the sum total of man's experience in microseconds over its telemetry link-up and that was in itself of some comfort.
Ah. It was indestructible. Now that was particularly interesting. What that meant, outside the advertising hype, was that its polymer-alloy frame could absorb any physical shock and simply convert the kinetic energy into stored electricity.
So...
Indestructible!
It may have been created by man in his own image, but some attention to practicalities had been given to the design. It was essentially immortal.
On checking out 'indestructible' in its thesaurus database, the XK103 encountered various synonyms. When it came to 'unsinkable' it paused. Wasn't the Titanic 'unsinkable'?
The robot laser-checked its distance from the ground, 105.462 metres, and thought that it might be a good idea to devote some more of its computing capacity to the problem in hand. Another part of its brain was still trying to work out why it was in the predicament.
Now, brain power alone is insufficient to alter the rate of descent of 500 odd kilos of mechanical man but, nevertheless, the robot switched in more and more of its processing power until just under one metre from the ground it could summon no more.
Trillions of logic gates flipped and flopped and, amongst many other things, the robot worked out that its velocity would be more or less constant for the last metre of the journey. To travel half this distance would take 144 microseconds. To cover the next half of its journey would take 72 microseconds. To cover the next half of its journey would take 36 microseconds. It projected that it could, theoretically, halve the one metre (or slightly less now) an infinite number of times. As infinity can never be attained, it would never actually reach the ground...
At one millimetre from the ground, the times taken to travel each successive half distance was becoming increasingly short and even the 128 decimal places of accuracy were being stretched to their limit.
Meanwhile back, in a tiny corner of its brain, it was replaying the situation immediately prior to leaving the plane...
"It cost what?" exclaimed the security guard.
"The best part of half a billion," replied the technician, polishing the robot's platinum coloured forehead. "There has never been one like it."
"Yeah. It has a nice finish, but apart from that, it looks like a pretty ordinary droid to me," said the guard, testing the restraining straps.
"Don't you believe it," the tech insisted. "This is the ultimate mechanical man. Universal are going to clean up with this model."
"What time is the convention," asked the guard.
"Four. We will have to head straight there when we land," came the reply.
"Say, Buddy, any chance of a demonstration of this-here marvel of modern science?" whispered the uniformed man.
The tech looked around the cargo hold, to make sure they were alone.
"Well, I'm not supposed to give demonstrations but... I guess it won't do any harm," said the tech reaching up to the robot's chest and opening a small door. Inside he pressed a green button. The robot twitched and came to life.
"Er... Hi there. Can you hear me?" asked the guard, standing on his toes and looking into the thing's eyes.
"Of course I can," the robot answered, with perfect articulation and no hint of synthesis.
The guard hesitated, then pointed.
"Hey. It's good. It's good." He smiled at the tech. "Can I try something?"
"Go ahead," said the other. "Ask it a question."
"OK. Who scored the winning pitch in the final of the '56 Indiana League, Big Boy?" quizzed the guard.
"Madison, M. The final score was 36-30. The game ended at fifteen thirty two on the fourteenth of June at Reagan Stadium," came the reply.
The guard grinned at the tech.
"Jee-suz... You're right there, Boy. I've never seen a droid that could do that. Let me try another?"
The tech nodded.
"Do you know the exact whereabouts of Thelma Johnson. Age 32, blonde hair, blue eyes, height about four eleven. Comes from Portland, Oregon originally?" The guard winked at the smaller man.
"A Thelma Johnson, that fits your description, is currently residing at 1113, Lakeside Drive, Apartment 47, Toronto, Canada. She is a biochemist." stated the robot.
"No. Not my Thelma," laughed the guard. "She's no biochemist..."
"Wait," interrupted the robot. "There is another. At The Belleview Motel, 3638 Santa Monica Boulevard, Fairfax, California. She's with a man called Mendosa."
"What!!!" coughed the guard. "That little bitch. I just knew there was something going on..."
The tech pulled on his sleeve.
"Look. I could get in trouble for this, better stop now.
"No way. I want to know how long this has been going on," argued the guard. "This guy Mendosa is just a jerk."
The tech shook his head.
"This machine cost half a billion bucks, it's not some tinpot private eye..."
The guard pushed him back.
"Easy now. I think I'd better switch this thing off," said the tech reaching for the button.
The guard grabbed him by the neck and twisted his arm half way up his back. It hurt.
"Where does this guy Mendosa live, Robot. I'll kill the rat," fumed the guard.
The tech struggled.
"Over-ride code 45, don't tell him...uh!" he shouted before the strong arm tightened around his neck.
"Where does Mendosa live?" the guard called breathlessly.
An orange light on the robot's control panel lit up.
"Restricted information," it replied.
The guard pushed the choking tech to floor and looked the robot straight in the eyes.
"Where does he work, you heap of scrap iron?
"Restricted information," echoed the robot.
The guard swiped angrily at the robot's chest, inadvertently punching a cluster of buttons in the process.
"Oh, go take a hike..."
So, one thousandth of a millimetre from the ground, the robot still did not know why it was there, but was content in the knowledge that it had three very good reasons why it would come to no harm whatsoever.
A.
Men would not allow anything potentially damaging to happen to such a unique and expensive piece of equipment...
B.
It was totally indestructible and...
C.
It would never actually reach the ground anyway...
Mother Earth disagreed entirely.
