My favorite robot on the whole planet (sorry R8PR) is here on display at the Atlanta Annual Tech Expo. AR73, the experimental learning robot that I went on a little adventure with about a month ago. I love this kid.
I didn’t expect it to be here at the tech expo like this, but then again, it IS one of the most advanced robots around today. Now that I think about it, didn’t Karina say she first met AR73 at last year’s expo?
“AR73!” I shout and wave, but the crowd is too loud and I’m completely drowned out. It seems like it’s occupied, anyway; it’s currently entertaining a gaggle of school children who are watching it paint a picture. Said picture, though, is basically just a punch of random colors.
It slathers on a coat of purple and the kids cheer at the way the purple mixes with the rest of the paints on the canvas and turns into a weird murky brown.
It makes a delicate swipe across the canvas in orange, then adds two vertical lines. It’s... a smiley face! the children go absolutely nuts when they see it. AR73 does a little bow and the kids clap wildly for it.
That’s good. That makes me happy, even if the art kind of sucks.
Once the kids clear away, AR73 turns the canvas backwards, and steps down from the platform. I break away from the crowd and greet it.
“Hey, hey, hey!” I greet.
It gives me a blank look. “Interesting...”
“Huh?”
It studies me closely, as if it doesn’t remember me. Oh no, was its memory wiped? Did it intentionally wipe away our day because it actually hated me?
“I don’t believe you’re a member of the press,” it says. “Morgan, why is your badge wrong?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
I look down at the press pass Larkins managed to procure for me. “Oh, this?” I start to laugh at how silly this must look, that baby-faced Morgan Harding is actually an ace technology reporter getting a major scoop.
“Lying is wrong, Morgan. You should tell them about the mistake.”
“Okay now, goody two-boots,” I retort.
“I don’t have boots. These are my feet,” it says, pointing down to its red bootie-shaped stumps. Weird, I thought they were gray. It also seems a bit taller than last time, coming up almost all the way to my chest.
“Did you get a new body?” I ask.
“Yep!” AR73 exclaims. “I got upgraded last week, just in time for the expo. I like growing. It makes me feel cool, like a real kid.”
I bend down and pat it on the little round thing on top of its head. “Oh, you are a real kid to me.”
“Interesting... You are a lot more sentimental than the last time we met,” it says. “Have you grown to appreciate the power of human companionship?”
“If that’s a roundabout way of asking if Karina and I shacked up, I’m going to be real mad at you for being a cheeky little brat.”
“I don’t know what most of that means.”
“Hey, by the way,” I say, standing up and straightening out my dress shirt. “Are you on break or whatever? Maybe we can go see Karina together and give her a big surprise. Whaddya say?”
AR73 looks positively... well, pleased, I guess, but it’s still a robot so it’s hard to tell. It responds, “I would be--”
“Hey, AR73, the next round of kids are comin’ around in five minutes. You better get your supplies ready.” I look behind the robot and see the overweight, balding man of my nightmares. “Oh, it’s you,” he says.
“Oh, it’s you,” I mirror.
Kevin O’Conner.
He flashes his glasses at me and then rubs his beard stubble. “You... you don’t got that roastie with you this time.”
“R...roastie? Is that a racial slur?”
He chuckles; it sounds sarcastic, but then he says, “You’ve got a lot to learn about the world. Don’t let those college classes poison you.”
“Um, yeah.” I turn to AR73. “On second thought, you’re probably really busy. Mind if I leave you to it?”
“That’s okay. We can play again some other time,” it says.
I hold out my hand for a fistbump. AR73 grabs it with both hands and shakes it.
As I depart, all I can think of is how sad it must be to have to live with such an awful dude every day. Poor robot. But... it’s still a good kid.