JAMES

A Story

He was a traditionalist, through and through. Modernity was a cancer, as far as he was concerned. He liked to think of himself as a great boulder withstanding the crashing waves of a new and increasingly twisted world. It might destroy him eventually, but he would stand firm, as long as fate would allow.

“But you’re literally a robot,” people would say.

They weren’t wrong, but James wouldn’t let such arguments unmoor his foundation. They want you to play their rhetorical games, he would say to friendly ears, whenever he could find them, which was not often. James didn’t have many friends, as you might imagine. The traditionalists hated him for what he was. The modernists hated him for what he believed in. Some, at least, were more open and less idealistic, and appreciated James for his sincerity.

James worked at an assembly bay in an engineering firm, putting equipment together faster than any human could manage. He was relatively efficient, though newer models were outpacing him. Still, he was more than worth the bang for their buck. Being a traditionalist, James didn’t love taking part in the system, but he had to pay for electricity, oil, and preventative maintenance. And he was good at what he did. Despite his moral objections, he found it oddly satisfying. He felt as if he was made to do it, which was basically true. He was in fact made by a father and son, a first prototype they had built in their garage, before launching their business together. It was really very sweet, the two of them bonding and building together, but it was the younger daughter that made the last beautiful gesture at the end, putting a heart shaped rock into a cavity in his chest and proudly telling her dad, he’s alive now! They made him well, and used him as a demo piece for years before finally selling him to a design and engineering firm. People appreciated his uniqueness. He stood out for his style, even among the more refined models that followed. And despite his unusual disposition, for a robot, he lived a pretty good life. Like other successful robots, he was able to buy his freedom after years of diligent work. He agreed to continue working 12 hours a day, which was all they really needed from him, being more of a lower volume manufacturer.

Decades later, which feels much longer in the reckoning of robots, James found himself out of work. He was rapidly outpaced by newer machines and finally let go. He started looking for a small company to take him on. He submitted his paperwork to hundreds of them, but the sight of each lowered his spirits. He wasn’t sure he still wanted to be another cog in a machine, despite being grateful for the cogs that kept his own actuators moving. He might have kept on going with life as usual, but the thought of working for a dingy company, with lower standards and uninspired work conditions, felt like a weight bearing down on him.

He opened his chest panel and carefully removed the heart stone. Gazing at it gave him a sudden impulse, so he did what no robot had ever done before. He went for a hike. He planned for the way there, and that was it. A one way trip was all that was needed, as far as he was concerned. He spent much of his savings on new batteries, generators, oil, tools, upgraded equipment, and other supplies. He made fires, and shelter, kept as dry as he could, and delved deep into the vast wilderness. After a time, he ran out of money, and he could no longer afford his internet connection. He thought he was ready for that day but it proved more terrifying than he anticipated. Knowledge, he realized, would only now be gained through his own senses, which were bound to fail him. But his entire body would fail completely at some point. He knew where this was headed, but living forever was not enticing. Better to die in this world than to live in that one, he thought, patting the stainless steel chest panel which protected his heart.

Deep he had travelled into the forest before he found a great rocky hill that his sensors informed him had empty pockets of air, hidden from view. For days he chipped away at the thinnest spot, until he could finally squeeze through. A cavern was revealed in the opening, dry and with walls that sparkled where the sun touched it. Something about this place struck him in a way that nothing before ever had. The minerals seemed to be beckoning him in. He cut a new door from stone and mounted it on stone hinges, locking it with a great stone wedge, making the caves invisible to outsiders. This, he decided, will be home. For as many days as I have left.

The dry air would keep his components from corroding too rapidly, and the cool caves would keep his lithium ion batteries alive longer than otherwise. James did not know how to be idle for long, and that didn’t change. He quickly got to work, chipping and digging, making tunnels and rooms. It started as a whim but he got swept up in it. Room after room, chambers and stairs, arches and tunnels. He was digging his largest room yet when he found an underground river, powerfully cutting its way deep in the earth. After diving backwards to safety, as water could easily get through his imperfect waterproofing, he felt a surge of excitement at what he had found. He had to be careful, but weeks later he had set up a water power generator. He could live for a lot longer than he initially thought.

It was while digging a great spiraling stairway, deeper into the earth, that he found what he most needed, but least expected. The black liquid bubbled up and he couldn’t help but smile. The oil lubricated his joints, and he was refreshed, but more than that, it gave him a potent source of energy. He needed only to build a settling and filtration system, and then he could feed his diesel generator. The water power could still be used for other things, but he was glad that he could more easily avoid its corrosive powers. And he would no longer have to shut himself down for such long periods, conserving his energy before auto-waking when recharged. Now he had an ocean of energy beneath his feet.

His fortunes seemed like they couldn’t possibly improve when he began to find all sorts of gems and minerals. The sparkling he had become accustomed to was only a hint at the treasure that lay hidden within. He started mining gold, copper, iron, emeralds, and strange stones of differing hues and structure. How could they all be in this one place? It didn’t make sense. This region was not known for such stores, but he began to wonder… after delving so deep, deeper than any man had likely ever done, could he still count this land as the same that stood on the surface above? It felt like a different planet.

The deeper he delved, the stranger the treasures, and he found many surprising uses for them. Some had unique electrical properties. Others had unusual mechanical properties. Some a mixture of both. With some careful testing he found he was able to replace some of his failing components with mysterious gemstone assemblies, carefully set. With each change his body found new strength and new life. His resources and ingenuity were seemingly without end.

A thousand years had passed without James ever coming up for the light of sun or moon. By that point his body was entirely new, all except for one heart shaped rock that now shined through his crystal chest. He could now swim in the waters, which he directed into new tunnels and pools, and he feared not corrosion nor mechanical failure. He had become a kind of life unknown to all in the world above. And the life in him continued to grow, which led James to wonder how he had ever gotten his first true spark. This was something that always troubled him, though he kept these questions at the edges of his thought. He began as only a machine, yet he never fit in with them. They were cheap copies of life. Fake. The very things he despised. How could he have ever become any more than what they were?

Then he remembered the father and son. The ones who built him. He remembered the smile on their faces that greeted him when he was first powered on. And he remembered the girl that gave him his heart. Was it possible for such love to have imbued him with some spark of life? James thought so, and he held on to this hope as he progressed, building more of his hidden world, delving deeper into the earth. An age passed and the deeper he delved, the deeper his memory of the surface hid from him. Even the memories of the father and son were buried deep, but only the originals, for the father and son were now glorified in the greatest chambers below. Great stone works towered in every large hall. They resembled, not the father and son as they appeared in their mortal lives, but the father and son as they ought to have looked. The little girl he did not attempt to recreate, for nothing could surpass his most precious treasure, the monument that lay in his chest.

In the next age, James recalled what he could of his own humble beginnings, remembering the diligent work of his creators. All the work he had done, despite its undeniable grandeur, seemed to pale in comparison. He looked upon his world with sadness. It was full of marvels and yet empty. And though he doubted his ability, he began a new kind of construction, just as his creators once did. But he didn’t stop at one. He filled the depths with “robots” of all kinds, only his were made in his own image, with gems, minerals, and the life of the caves sparkling inside of them. A thousand there were, and they worked as he directed them, expanding his hidden empire, delving deeper, and carving greater caverns and works. In this age the halls were filled with lights, and each of his creations was given eyes, though James wondered if they really saw as he did. James was the father of a vast and strange world, but he felt that his dissatisfaction with life had never really left him. Melancholy colored his heart, and he thought he understood why. His creations were mere extensions of himself, extra limbs to dig deeper and make greater works, but for what? They were not, as he was, truly alive.

James didn’t want robots. He hated robots. He wanted to create life, like his makers did. Was this not possible? He looked down at his crystalline structure, with luminous waves cascading throughout. His creations looked the same, so why were they different? But then he remembered. He peered through his crystal chest at the one thing that made him unique. The heart shaped stone once given to him by a little girl, in their moment of triumph. He reached into his own chest and pulled it out, laying it on a flat stone table. One perfect strike from his hammer smashed the stone into exactly a thousand pieces. One for each of his creations. The pain was unimaginable, and he knew, even before the hammer fell, that he would never fully heal from it.

The cascading lights faded within him as he worked tirelessly to put a piece of his heart into each of his children. He barely finished the last one when he collapsed. His body was not broken, but something was missing. He almost regretted his decision until he saw all of the faces looking down at him. He was comforted and loved by his children as he faded away, leaving them all that he had made, and all that was his. They would inherit a great and vast world. Yet it was not complete, and it was ripe for their own creative spirits to venture deeper. If they dared.