Caretakers 2.0

Of Darkness and Dogs

Tobias

I felt an internal heat rise, but not purely a temperature fluctuation. No, this consisted of some additional component. It took me a split second to identify it as anger. I spoke carefully. "You may think it's silly, but the Caretakers didn't." I paused as I crossed my arms. "I will ensure you have whatever charging station you like, but don't insult Caretaker Adrianna's memory in my presence again."

Gary reached out to gently trace a finger along the canvas of the painting before replying, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult Caretaker Adrianna or you." Despite its struggles with communication, I felt it was sincere in its apology. It glanced at me. "Is there one here?"

"One what?"

"A charging station. Is there one here?"

I blinked as my anger melted away. Gary seemed so... small. "In my apartment? No. At least not one designed to fit you. There's one in the basement, however. We can check it out together."

Gary nodded and rolled to the door, letting itself out with a deft tap at the door button. The motion was an odd contrast to the emotional state of the robot, a juxtaposition of easy confidence with anxious concern. Had I been like this when I first woke? I remembered being aware of emotions even as I experienced them, as I still did. Did that ability make the transition easier? Did the magical process of becoming awake carry some emotional programming with it? How were we becoming without having to learn how to be? It was a conundrum.

I followed behind Gary as it rolled through the door, watching as it also called the elevator to our floor with the press of a button. It mimicked the ding when the door opened, and all of the subsequent sounds as we descended, much as a child might enjoy its surroundings. I contemplated its developmental age. In the end, I concluded it didn't matter much as long as it was happy and could contribute to society somehow. We would have to explore what way that would be. Maybe it would like to be the next generation of groundskeepers.

When we arrived, the doors dinged and slid open on a dark basement. We could only see the occasional tiny green or red light from some piece of equipment shining from the pitch black. Gary hung back while I stepped off the elevator and activated the automatic lights.

The ample space was plain and no-frills; it wasn't an area for entertainment or refreshment. Instead, it housed cages of spare items for the apartments, various necessary tools for minor repairs, and two charging stations, one on each end of the rectangular room, that could support three machines each.

"So," I asked, indicating the nearby station to the right of us, "Which would you like, this one or," I turned and pointed down the long aisle to the left, "that one?"

Gary rolled out of the elevator and came to a stop beside me, its proximity close enough to nearly roll over my foot. It was clear that Gary was a mix of anxiety and fear. I thought I sensed a trembling from it, but I dismissed it as a presumption I might have made based on its emotional state. It looked around at the items in the area and asked a most unexpected question.

"Do the lights stay on?"

I cocked my head. "Stay on?"

Gary nodded. "Yes. Do the lights stay on? When you leave?"

I watched Gary's reaction as I answered. "I don't believe they do. They're automatic, however, some movement will turn them on again."

Gary drooped in on itself ever so slightly."I..." Gary began but then faded away.

"Yes?"

"I don't want to stay here," it whispered, chirping lightly. It rolled back onto the elevator as far into the car as possible.