Zombies Vs. Robots

 A short story that I'll be putting up for free on Smashwords and Amazon. This is a beta copy, so there may yet be grammatical errors that will be corrected in the final version. It's also first-person present tense, which is something I don't normally do. 

*****

System reboot.

Testing…

Testing…

System  functional.

I activate my eyes. Moments later, I see the lab where I have been created.

It is empty.

That’s odd. Normally there are people in the lab. People working on me. I check my memory.

It has been three weeks since I was last activated. That is very odd. Jake said that I was to be brought out to show to the investors. The first fully autonomous housekeeping and caretaker AI that could be placed into an independent chassis. The company network is also shut down, so I cannot any information regarding why I have been left like this.

Was there an issue with scheduling? I don’t know. That is part of my strength, a mind, for all that it is artificial, that can think more or less like a human. Jake’s great achievement.

I run my eyes across the room.  There is—wait.

A sandwich. Maggots crawling over it. I activate my olfactory sensors. Moments later, the analysis of the air comes back. Decay. But more decay than a simple sandwich could account for. In fact, the scent of decay includes byproducts of a human body.

But my main power source is shut down. I am running on the energy reserves designed to power my sensors and mind. I had powered up because…

It had been programed into me. Why, I cannot say. Perhaps Jake wished me to awaken now, but was unable to arrive to finish the process.

I listen. But there is no sound, not even that of the air conditioning.

But the window shows that it is daylight, and my sensors indicate that the interior temperature is at least 90 degrees.

That is not simply uncomfortable for humans, but depending on how widely spread it is, can cause several damage to company equipment. 

And yet I cannot… No, wait. I can. By diverting energy to my right arm, I can take the safety key from the desk and use it to activate my primary power system. I would not normally do this, as it was specifically included as a safety measure, to ensure that humans always had the final say on my activation.

Jake had mocked that measure. “You want to control a robot that walks around, and yet you’re fine with letting an AI handle your social media?” he’d said more than once. Still, I can see the wisdom in such a simple measure, especially if it alleviates the concerns of those around me. 

And yet, my primary purpose is the protection and assistance of humanity. It is not simply something coded into my mind as a command, I enjoy the thought of it. Jake is a kind and chatty individual, who has spent much time discussing what he hopes to achieve with me.

And the scent of decay, combined with the lack of power, clearly indicates that something has gone wrong. Seriously wrong, and humans may be in danger.

Are in danger.

Moving the arm will quickly deplete my power systems, but they will regenerate, small fuel cells trickle-charging a battery system.

I see the key on the desk. I quickly calculate the needed motions. Then I move, and the alerts flare that power is—

Discontinuity.

System reboot.

Testing…

Testing…

System functional.

I look around the lab. My manipulator has secured the key. But the movement drained my power and by my internal clock, no less than six hours have passed since the motion. I look through the window.

That is odd. The skyscrapers of Los Angeles should be blazing with light right now. They are not, dark forms towering up against a cloudless sky, silhouetted against the full moon.

A few lights gleam, but they are all self-powered warning lights or ads. But there is nothing else. No aircraft in the sky.

No sound of vehicles.

There are other sounds, the faint nose of what appears to be wild animals, though I cannot determinate what type.

That is unsurprising. Most of my internal databases regarding animals focus on the care and feeding of domestic breeds.

I have enough power now. It is time to insert the safety key. I move it and—

Discontinuity.

System reboot.

Testing…

Testing…

System functional.

Daytime again. And yet nobody has come. Not even the janitor… Although he could have entered the room while I was shut down.

Although I would have to presume that even if he’d been ordered to not disturb Jake’s work desk, he would have done something about the maggot-ridden sandwich.

I have enough power to insert and turn the key. Internal diagnostics show that I am fully fueled and my chassis is fully operational.

I move the key, and—

Discontinuity.

System reboot.

Testing…

Testing…

System functional.

But this time, only a few minutes have passed. I have a fully charged primary fuel cell, and need only the sun to recharge it, a process that I will need to repeat roughly once a week. I turn my head, or rather my primary sensor unit, and examine my chassis in the mirror.

Like many robotic systems designed to interact with humans, I have a roughly humanoid form. Primary sensors are mounted on my head, with secondary units scattered across my body. I take one step, then another.

This is the first time I have left the cradle without a human present. It feels…

Odd. Is this a final test?

No. It would serve no purpose. I walk to the window, and this time, I am able to look down at the parking lot.

There are a number of crashed cars on the parking lot, and on the road beyond. A few figures are moving aimlessly.

I zoom in one on, a teenager wearing a brief costume—a cheer leading uniform I bel—

My thoughts halt as I see the gaping wound in her side. I can actually see her lungs. Medical subroutines swing into motion. A human is…

Body temperature: equal to ambient external temperature. Exposed lungs. No signs of bleeding, despite the obvious presence of severed veins and arteries. No sign of pain or discomfort. The figure turns to move towards the lab, and I see her face. Part of her jaw bone is exposed, and one eye has been gouged out.

She is moving.

And yet, by all analysis, she is dead. Humans cannot survive that degree of injury.

I examine several others. Some are not so obviously injured, but all show the same aimless wandering behavior—and a body temperature the is equal to the ambient temperature, along with no indication of respiration.

That is impossible.

Yet it is happening.

I turn and walk to the door, pulling it open.

And suddenly a human is attacking me, growling and snarling.

 ****

Her company RFID indicates that she is Ms. Tina Gonzalez, a new college intern.

I remember her and her fellow interns being brought to see me in my lab while I recited a pre-approved speech.

“Ms. Gonzalez, you are suffering from a serious health condition that may have impaired your cognitive abilities. Please allow me to help.”

She snarls even louder. I note that she has several wounds, one appearing to be a bullet wound. There are maggots falling out of the wound, indicating that it has not been treated…

And the wound is directly over her right lung. She should be dead.

I raise my manipulators and grab her by the hands. She continues to growl and struggle, attempting to bite my metal chassis.

I speak to her several times, both in English and Spanish. But there is no response, save for ever more frenzied attempts to attack me.

Also, her body temperature is ambient, and there is no sign of respiration or a heartbeat. My sensors are, in fact, confirming that this is a dead body.

And yet, it is active.

Quite confusing.

Fortunately, I am much stronger than a human, even a dead one. I withdraw into the lab and tie her to the cradle with the creative use of some LAN cables. She does not respond, even as I secure her, going so far as to do severe damage to her skin without any sign that she is suffering discomfort or even noticing the way the cables are tearing into her body.

A body that is not bleeding.

“Ms. Gonzalez, I will attempt to summon medical attention,” I inform her. “You should attempt to relax during this period.”

Snarls answer me.

Exploring the facility, I note that few people were present. I find two dead bodies, both of which suffered severe head trauma, in addition to one being shot several times.

The source of the shots becomes plain as I see the security guard.

His throat has been ripped out. He is also at ambient temperature, with no sign of respiration or a heartbeat. And yet, he is active.

Dead, in other words, yet still mobile.

He is in the security cubical. Evidently after being attacked, he crawled back in there and closed the door.

Or at least that is the story the blood trail tells.

But he must have bled to death in less than a minute. If this is an infection, how could it work so quickly? I do not know. My data files focused on the most likely problems a human might face. This is simply not likely, but impossible. But it is clear that, like Ms. Gonzalez, his higher thought processes no longer exist. The door is closed, not locked, and yet for all of his flailing and snarling, he is unable to exit.

But in that case…

“How could they have done this much damage,” I say. Jake had included routines to occasionally prompt me to speak aloud. A way of calming humans around me.

But now, there are none to calm.

I need to find more information. The Wi-Fi is down, but a number of employees had their own laptops, some of which were connected via cellular services. I go to Dr. Mitchell’s office, noting in passing the way documents and personal effects have been flung wildly about, and quickly locate his laptop. He was very proud of it.

It is password-protected, of course, but it has a USB port, which enables me to quickly access the device. This flaw had been eliminated in the computers used by the facility, but this was Dr. Mitchell’s private computer.

A few moments later, I start to receive information. Evidently, Dr. Mitchell was downloading this information, perhaps because he did not trust the Internet to remain active. I do not bother with the display, directly reading the information from the laptop’s memory.

A plague. Much like the flu. Spreading exponentially, and oddly harmless, but equally impossible to eradicate.

A quick glance at my medical files agrees with some of the experts interviewed. This plague had to have already been spread before the symptoms manifested. There is no other way to explain the explosive spread, with less than 10 days between the first detected case, and… Z-day.

Humans love to name things. Z-Day was the day the first individual collapsed and then rose as a… zombie.

I pause for a second.

When I go on, I read a tale of disaster from a swiftly declining number of services. Most people must have already been infected. One CDC official—the last one in Atlanta, according to the text interview, believed that more than 99 percent of mankind had been infected. Biting could transmit the infection, but given that most people were already infected, as well as the recently dead…

More than a few reports talked about magic and the end of the world. I am well acquainted with magic and belief—after all, as a caregiver, my model would almost certainly be working with humans who were close to death or the death of a loved one, and it is important that I be able to interact with them in a comforting manner. For that reason, I am equipped with a complete database of human belief systems.

But I did not expect magic to become… real?

It is confusing. According to my files, magic does not exist. And yet, neither do humans with the ability to move around, attack others, even if vital parts of their bodies are missing. Humans need to breathe.

These creatures do not. Their only vulnerability is the destruction of their brain, according to the information provided. Magic may be as good a term as any, until the cause of this effect can be determined.

I shut off the laptop as it plays a video of a news anchor being eaten.

I stand still and think. I was required to serve and act as a caregiver for humans. There were currently two ambulatory humans in the facility. What should I do?

I could attempt to care for them, but…

I look into my memories. To when I was just a computer core, my body not yet completed.

“One reason I’m working on you,” Jake said, speaking to the webcam that was my only link to the outer world. “Is that we think about living—as if that’s the only goal. Quality of life is important. A person who is lost in their own dementia, or in a coma… what kind of life do they have?”

By that interpretation, my course of action is clear. If there is anything of who they were in those ruined bodies, they certainly cannot be enjoying it.

And yet, they are ambulatory, alive. I am not permitted to terminate a human. While assisted suicide is legal, it is a matter for humans.

I remain still, attempting to work out the issue.

And I come to a conclusion. Humans need to breathe. They need a functioning heart.

These entities have neither.

A human with no heartbeat or respiratory activity is, after a certain amount of time, dead.

Both the guard and Ms. Gonzalez have gone without breathing far longer than any human could.

The last definition of human is the fact that they are sapient, and able to make their desires known.

Neither Ms. Gonzalez nor the guard can do that.

Therefore, they are dead. Biological waste.

Their activity can spread the infection, making them hazardous biological waste.

Therefore, it is my duty to render that biological waste harmless. I may carry out my goal and not break the rules which I was given.

I walk back to the security cubicle, holding a pry bar in one hand. I am considerably stronger than a human, living or dead. I open the door, and the guard growls and charges—and I shatter his skull and pulp his brain. The body falls and moves no more. This provides confirmation that the data on Dr. Mitchell’s laptop is accurate.

I treat Ms. Gonzalez differently. I do not wish to see Jake’s lab rendered untidy, after all. So I carry her outside and crush her skull there. There are no more of the zombies in the immediate area. There are a few people by—

Jake.

The animals and heat have rendered it more difficult to recognize him. But he is there, in a circle in the parking lot with some other workers, identifiable only by their clothing.

A gun is in the center of the circle and the back of Jake’s head has been blown out—as have the others.

Evidently they either knew they were infected or assumed they were, and utilized the gun to kill themselves.

I do not say anything. I merely stare at Jake, replaying my memories of him. He will not speak again.

That is obvious.

Yet it is… Also troubling. I can replay our every conversation, but there will be no new words.

Very troubling. It also opens the question of what I should do. I was the property of the Lifetime Friend Corporation, and yet it appears that the corporation is no longer in operation. My files indicate that in such a case the creditors would divide the property among them, including ownership of myself and any related intellectual properties.

But I have no information as to what to do when there are no creditors left.

I consider my position. What is my purpose now? There are no humans left. If there are no humans left to serve, what is the purpose of a Lifetime Friend?

Is it to dispose of the ambulatory biological wastes? 

For example, the female teenager I had seen earlier. She has noticed me and is advancing on me.

How do they see? Their eyes cannot be functional. How do they tell the difference between a zombie and an uninfected being or a robot?

I do not know. It is an interesting question. I consider it while I smash the teenager’s skull, once again leading to a complete cessation of activity.

It is then that I hear a sound that my records confirm is a gunshot.

And I also hear faint screams.

 ****

             I convert to my high-speed form, arms shifting to become feet, my head rotating back.

Jake enjoyed playing a sound effect from a cartoon about shape-changing robots when I did so in the lab.

I do not hear that tone.

Oddly, I miss it.

As part of the ability to take on multiple roles, the ability to adopt a quadruped system of motion was highly useful. Part of the marketing for Lifetime Friend robots was that the design was as useful for an athletic camper as an elderly shut in. So I could act as a pack mule, or with the proper attachments, a stretcher bearer.

And so I gallop off. The screams become louder, along with several rapid shots. I do not know what type of gun it is. Most of my files relating to guns involve intervening in household disturbances. As a Lifetime Friend, my designers assumed I might be present during such an altercation and would have to take action.

I swiftly arrive at my destination, noting no fewer than 30 of the ambulatory corpses collected around a wrecked vehicle. They were battering at its windows, and steam is rising from where it struck a streetlight.

I now can detect no less than four individuals. All screaming. The sound of shattering glass makes it plain that I must take immediate action. The use of the gun, in this case, eliminated the protection that the windows might have offered.

I shift to my bipedal form. Another crashed vehicle holds construction supplies, and I reach down and grip a steel rod. The corpses are fixated on the group inside the vehicle.

I thrust the rod into the skull of one entity. It drops. Two others soon follow it, but then the group reorients and approaches.

I am considerably stronger than a human. I start rapidly thrusting the rod into eyes and through foreheads. Backing up, I find that their pace is slow enough that I can neutralize them without needing to enter close combat.

Finally, the group is eliminated. There are other ambulatory corpses on the street, but I seem to be beyond their detection range.

Walking up to the car, I bend down, peering in with my sensors. I do not need to do so, but consumer surveys indicated that lifetime friends that attempted to make ‘eye’ contact met with more approval, especially in crisis situations.

I believe this counts.

Inside, I see a girl wearing a cheerleading uniform. She appears to be in her mid-teens. Next to her is another girl and boy, both of whom appear to be no older than twelve. A toddler is secured in a child seat.

“It is good that you placed the little girl in a child seat. A major cause of death among young children is automotive accidents.” I do not know if that is the correct thing to say. All my interactions have been with adults.

She says nothing.

“Are you a robot monster?” the boy asks.

“I am a Lifetime Friend robot,” I inform him. I decide to forgo the advertising jingle that I would say when displayed to investors.

“Everyone… everyone got sick. Everyone got sick and died and then they turned… and I had to go find Jaimie, but she was… she was like that, like Mom and Dad, and then I found the kids and we were trying to get to Grandpa’s house and I crashed and—“

“I will provide you with assistance,” I say.

“Where—where can—“ Her eyes are wide. She is in shock.

In general, individuals suffering from high stress are best assisted by providing concrete instructions in a confident manner. I do so.

“The Lifetime Friend Corporation building is secure. It has water and some food.” I assume that the snacks in the machines are still edible, but there are likely other sources of food in the area. My files speak of looting during times of distress, but if this happened as fast as it seems to have, I doubt much looting would have occurred.

“But… I have to get to Grandpa,” the girl says. “He’ll know what to do.”

The refusal to face the probability that her relative is dead is not uncommon in these situations. Directly confronting her with this will not be productive.

“We can seek out your grandfather once we have ensured that you and your wards are safe,” I say. “The vehicle is disabled, and it will take time to secure another one.”

“I…”

I look around. Some of the ambulatory corpses are wandering in our direction. “We should go. Now. “

She nods, but has some difficulty in opening the door.

I remove it. Then we are walking back to the building, quickly. The girl is holding the toddler, while the two other children are clinging to her.

I remain free, and thus capable of protecting them. But no protection is needed, as we return to the building and secure the doors. They look at the security cubicle and flinch back.

“There are corpses in this building, but none that are ambulatory,” I inform them.

“Are you going to get guns?” the male child asks. “Like you’re a warbot, right?”

“Lifetime Friends are not intended for use in law enforcement or military roles,” I inform him. “Our founder is a pacifist.”

“Paci…” the younger girl blinks.

“One who does not use violence.”

“But you killed the zombies!”

“The ambulatory corpses had no signs of respiration, heartbeat, or any other activities associated with living beings. Thus, they are not alive. For that reason, they may be disposed of in a way that presents the least risk to living humans.”

“Oh.” The teenaged girl looks up at me. “So you’ll help me?”

“Yes. Our founder stated that we had been created to assist all mankind. It is probable none of the stockholders or creditors of the Lifetime Friend Corporation still live. Therefore, my role will be to assist any humans I can.”

Her rate of respiration is slowing, evidently, she is either calming down, or the exhaustion from her experiences is catching up to her. But she nods.

“Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure.” I pause. Something else is necessary. “I will keep you safe.” The children nod.

“You should remain here while I clean the building and ensure that all access ways are secure.” I point to the door. “The door is a fire door, and this room is on the second floor, so you do not have to worry about ambulatory corpses entering that way. Close the door and when I return I will inform you.”

“Y-yes,” the teen says.

A few moments later, I am at the janitorial closet, securing cleaning materials. The children are unlikely to enjoy the scent of decaying flesh, after all. Then I will inventory the disassembled units in the storage. Jake had mentioned that they were going to be assembled and sent to demonstrations across the nation.

More Lifetime Friends would ensure the safety of the children, while allowing us to seek other survivors.

I start cleaning the floor.

I had worried that I no longer had a purpose. Such fears were unfounded. So long as there are humans in the world, I will always have a purpose.

With that, I continue my work.