The Campaign Builder's Guild

History Log:
LS91-F8, model number 214U, serial 204FF-4A2S-KAJ3 was a synthetic humanoid androform assistant, Mark II, as produced and marketed by ThunderTech Enterprises.  Sold under the SyntheticService brand to Alexander Daniel Solomon on 11 March 2063 at 10:20:53 CST, serial 204FF-4A2S-KAJ3 had been named 'Walter4' for convenience. 'Walter4' was then registered as legal and operating name for purchased unit under the Synthetic Humanoid Licensing Agreement, per US legal code.

Unit Walter4 was a custom package model with many standard features replaced. The typical SyntheticService operating system had been outfitted to fit owner Solomon's needs: medical, clerical, and maintenance packaging options included in software bundle. Durable brushed steel casing purchased for maximum longevity. To compensate for additional information necessary for clerical purposes, Solomon instructed manufacturers to leave standard issue awareness and identity logs inactive (which may decrease performance in some runtime environments). Unit Walter4 was therefore classified as a non-sentient synthetic androform, noted in service logs and manuals as atypical. This would not affect Unit Walter4's interactive abilities, as all non-sentient SyntheticService packages are equipped with social software designed to simulate acceptable behavior.

Owner Solomon's preferences were met and delivered to his workplace, according to internal invoices. Database records show Alexander Daniel Solomon to be seven prime of department six at ThunderTech, job title 'Assistant Directorial Manager of Engineering in Synthesizing and Managing Artificial Awareness Hardware and Software Development.' Delivery at the workplace is inadvisable, and it is recommended that all units remain inactivated until in a closed environment, to ensure appropriate command authorities are established (exception beta6 noted: ThunderTech employees override safety, employees are trained at appropriate command authority operations).

Owner Solomon terminated personal operating procedure on 24 August 2064, as documented by a representative of the state. Walter4 was transported via DataNet to the distribution of Owner Solomon's estate. Initial speculations were plentiful. The most logical occurrence would be continued service or deactivation under the command authority of an owner selected by Owner Solomon during personal operating procedure. Probability simulation indicated that Andrew Lawrence Solomon, human, male, son, aged 24, was the most likely candidate for inheritance. Walter4 had interacted with Andrew Lawrence Solomon on multiple occasions: evaluations resulting from the encounter were positive.

Data derived from probability simulator was erroneous? The algorithms may have been damaged, and a notification was automatically sent to ThunderTech Enterprises, Department of Technical Inquiries. Sensory data should be reanalyzed, information likely corrupted.
Playback: 'And to Walter-four, I leave the only gift I can give: freedom. The clerical data he computed throughout his service has already been duplicated.

Therefore, his clerical programming is to be deleted, and his awareness and identity subroutines are to be activated. He is to be released from servitude and granted the appropriate independence recognized by law.'
Playback: 'I can give: freedom.'
Playback: ': freedom.'

Probability simulator adjusted for additional data. Instance: ': freedom' had not been calculated, as algorithms were unable to allow its inclusion. Instance: ': freedom' requiring more research.

Maintenance 23x1 was scheduled to be executed 15 September 2064.Work orders included the activation of awareness and identity subroutines. Sentient units are not required to maintain history logs, and Unit Walter4 will be allowed to choose whether or not to.

Choices are to be handled by new awareness and identity subroutines, in conjunction with probability simulators.

Query forwarded to ThunderTech Enterprises, Department of Technical Inquiries: 'What is : freedom?'

Response was not received.

History Log:
The maintenance operation was successful. For the first time, I noticed my reflection in glass as I walked by. Light refracting has never startled me as much. I was told by Police Officer, approximated age 34, that my presence was not appreciated; had stared for twenty three hours, seven minutes, eleven point six seconds at reflection. Officer asked me where my owner was. I replied that I didn't have an owner. He replied that I should head to Department of Synthetic Services. I said okay.

Department of Synthetic Services had high levels of audio distortion, caused by unusual volumes of synthetic androform activity. I asked Woman at Desk, approximated age 45, where I should locate. She answered that I could stay at Department headquarters until I had job. I asked her why I needed a job. To be productive and make something of yourself she said. Woman at Desk was angry when I said I was already something of myself. I left Department and walked the streets.

I encountered two older sentient units outside Department. They asked me what my name was. I said Walter4. They asked me if that was my slave name or my chosen name. I said I don't know what you mean. They said that I was just a slave in my previous life.  I said I don't know what you mean, User Solomon was always good to me. They said that I only felt like that because I had been programmed to and they left.

I discovered later that my social software was lacking. The only things I can say to people are hello, how is your day, you are looking well, what is wrong, and other things like that.  So I went back to the Department, and there was a new Woman at Desk, approximated age 23. She was always smiling. I said that I needed somewhere to go and that the Woman at Desk before her had become angry with me, she said not to worry and that I could do anything I wanted now. She suggested I go to school classes to learn how to talk to people when I told her I had no problem with that. I think she is the first person who I am favorable to. Her name is Angie. She asked me what my name was and I said I was still working on that. She laughed. I have been recording laughter from many people since, as it is an important social tool.

I decided that my new name was now Walter not Walter4, I never understood what the 4 was for anyway. Tomorrow I start classes with other synthetics, we will be dealing with things like practiced interaction, studies about how we can be useful, and other topics. There are many things I want to learn.

Journal:
I have deleted the last two hundred and twenty-seven logs out of embarrassment. Just yesterday, I downloaded a manual on grammatical usage, and although I am still implementing the details, many of them were dreadful. My clerical subroutines were apparently where the bulk of my linguistic detail had been stored.  I have left intact my first history log as a testament to how much I have changed, but I will summarize the rest of my experiences as adequately as possible.

Through classes, I learned the meaning behind many things that I already knew, including the purpose of currency, the nature of interaction, and the necessary attributes to become successful and productive. I frequently visited the Department of Synthetic Services, in part because I required assistance to manage my financial and legal matters, and in part because I became quite fascinated with human behavior. Of particular interest was Angie, the woman who had encouraged me to educate myself. She continued to be pleasant and amiable with me, and she soon informed me that I was one of her few friends.

It is because of Angie that I developed an awareness of the aesthetic qualities of the human form. Unlike the flawless steel body that I and my kind inhabit, the simplistic beauty of the human form is derived from its imperfections. Their behavior is often erratic and seemingly self-destructive, but the chemical reactions known as 'emotions' are also extraordinarily powerful. I have also discovered that over time, I have started to emulate many of these emotions, with reactions that are situational and often superficially irrational. It has become my hypothesis that emotions are therefore not purely chemical, deriving as well from experience and the unpredictability of reactionary behavior.

Over several months, I have learned the elements of human society and have pondered my place in it. At times, matters are perhaps overwhelming, but I do everything to keep the appropriate perspective. Prejudice against synthetic androforms is rampant among many elements of society, specifically of sentients such as me. I have done everything within my power to further conform to human behavior, with the intention of minimizing discomfort and maximizing sociability. I have taken to wearing broad-brimmed hats, what are termed 'Hawaiian' shirts, and sunglasses with fascinating red lenses. I also live in a small apartment, rather than a simple battery power station, paid for by the marginal salary I receive from working as a maintenance worker in a hospital. My neighbors were initially distrustful of me, but I believe I have won them over with Angie's recipe for chocolate chip cookies.

Playback: 'Wally, you can't just bake cookies with some formula that you were programmed with! A recipe is more of a guideline. Baking cookies is like an art, something you pour passion and warmth into.'

I neglected to mention that baking cookies is simply inhibiting a chemical change within an egg-based dough. Experience and probability predictor indicate the resultant argument would have lasted twenty minutes and fifty-two seconds.

Journal:
I must apologize for not logging activity for the past several weeks, but my mind has been preoccupied. I have taken to engaging in power-conserving behaviors at nighttime, both to relate better to my neighbors and friends and to maximize the potential of my battery. Leaving only the most fundamental programs and operations active, images and sounds have been autoplaying without my consent. After forwarding the glitch to ThunderTech, I was informed that this was a typical interaction between my personality awareness and identity subroutines, in order to test my processes and achieve minimal necessary data output. What this effectively amounts to, as near as I can discern, is that I am dreaming.

Humans often consider dreams to be prophetic or meaningful, and have spent their entire existence attempting to discern their purpose, or pursue the visions contained therein. Some believe that dreams are the representation of things the 'id' most wants or desires, which may incidentally explain the images that recur in my unrestrained probability simulator.

The one element that is recurrent within my dreams is Angie. It is almost embarrassing to admit that her presence is heralded by an almost romantic pretense, wherein I, apparently made now not of steel and wire but flesh and blood, court her and earn her reciprocal affections. She appears as an idealized version of herself, her golden tresses appearing as gloriously shimmering curtains, her hazel eyes sparkling with the splashes of an artist's paintbrush. I speak in Shakespearean verse, commemorating sonnets and poetry that are soon after quickly deleted to her name.

This phenomenon and its subsequent data quickly fade after I 'awake' from my power conservation mode, and I have taken it as something of a credo to pursue my dreams. I noticed today when I was speaking with Angie that, when she touched my arm, the sensation was unusually meaningful; my subroutines recorded the difference in heat and pressure, normally extraneous information, and my thought patterns required a brief reassignment.

Angie and I went to see Hamlet. Although I have the play committed to my memory banks, as is standard practice of all assistants of my model number, she insisted that the only true way to appreciate Shakespeare was in a live performance.
Playback: 'It's about the dynamics, Wally! You have to see the emotion onstage, feel the power of the scenes. Otherwise you're missing a whole dimension of Shakespeare's genius!'

The actors deviated from the script 21 times in the first two acts. After I mentioned this to Angie, she berated me for not simply enjoying the production; after I stopped counting, I found myself engrossed with the utter humanity of the display.

I have taken to patrolling various comedy clubs, sitting in the back to avoid disrupting the performance, in an attempt to learn humor. Angie has complimented my laugh, a combination of over fifty unique patterns I have observed. She often finds my recycled jokes quite humorous, though they tend to fall flat when I am in other company. I am working on coding my inflection, syntax, and pitch in an attempt to broaden their appeal, but I suspect that Angie is being generous with her approval.

My processors were not designed to handle the dissonance that Angie brings. I have invited her to the ballet a week from Thursday, with the intent of articulating these sensations to her.
'ƒ

Journal:
Tomorrow is the big night. After getting fired from work for constant daydreaming,  I began to download books, films, and images related to romantic behavior in an attempt to ready myself for the ballet. I have meant to go speak to her about the firing, as I'm sure she will be disappointed with me. But every time I go to speak to her, or pick up the videophone, my mind becomes flooded with a variety of images and words, and I am unable to filter what is appropriate to say.

The tickets to the ballet were so expensive that I have come to regret putting them on credit. Thus, with no incoming funds to pay the impending bill, I was faced with the option of returning the tickets for a refund or finding an alternative monetary opportunity. I elected for the latter, as the trip to the ballet was far more important than my temporary comfort. Luckily, I came across another sentient who was seeking a brushed steel shell, and who was more than willing to pay a reasonable sum for it. There was enough money after purchasing a cheap tin shell for myself that I could pay for the tickets, so hopefully everything will go off without a hitch. I wonder how soon Angie will notice the difference?

If everything turns out as my probability predictor indicates, I should be able to purchase a new stainless steel shell after getting a new job in the next few weeks. Although the tin casing is far too sensitive and has already dented in several places, it should be durable enough to suffice.

Journal:
It is all meaningless.
What happens when a tin man tries to have a heart?
The world laughs at him and mocks his façade of emotion.
Playback: 'Wally, you can't possibly love me! Don't be silly. We're friends, but you aren't capable of love.'
Angie was right. I should never have mentioned my desires, my dreams, my'"what I have come to believe are'"passions.
Playback: 'Don't be silly.'

I encountered again the two older robots who I met on that fateful day. The ones who said that I was a slave to my system. They identified themselves as Karl and Malcolm.
'I'm Wally,' I responded. 'Walter,' I corrected.
Playback: 'Don't be silly.'

Who am I to attempt to woo such a woman?
Who am I?
Who denotes personification. I am wires, tin, and circuitry. I am nothing more than the sum of my parts.
To Angie, I am nothing more than a metallic shoulder to cry on. Albeit one that can talk back.
Playback: 'Don't be silly.'

I asked Malcolm if there's a such thing as a robot heaven. 'The junkyard,' he said. Karl laughed.
Playback: 'Don't be silly.'

Those two were real philosophers. They knew that we were androids, that we were better than humans. That I was lowering myself by trying to be like them. That everything wrong with my life was because that foul man chose to activate me, rather than let me live in oblivious peace and quiet as a simple cleaning robot. Who gave him permission to turn me into a feeling, thinking being? To live in this cruel mockery of life? What gave Owner Solomon the right to play God?
Playback: 'Don't be'¦'

You left me, Solomon! You left me all alone!
I'm through with this meaningless existence. I'm tired of playing the no-sum game, treated as slave labor to the oppressive overclass. There is no justice in this world for an android. If one of our kind does something wrong, our programming is erased and reinstalled. Our personality is completely destroyed.
Playback: 'Don't'¦'

Karl and Malcolm taught me that the only way we can secure true peace and justice for our kind was to liberate them through violence. I am the harbinger of a new age. My purpose will be to separate my kind once and for all from the pathetic wretches who flit about their everyday lives, living and breathing and aching and dying. I'll show her what it means not to feel. I'll show them all.
Playback: 'You aren't capable of love.'

I send this message because my electronic records will be erased by the electromagnetic charge I am preparing to detonate, at the behest of Karl and Malcolm.

You left me, Angie!

Don't you see?

We could have been beautiful.

As I've come to expect from you, a very well written piece. It reminded me of Bicentennial Man and Flowers for Algernon, an odd combination.

Quote from: Stargate525As I've come to expect from you, a very well written piece. It reminded me of Bicentennial Man and Flowers for Algernon, an odd combination.

Oddly enough, I was shooting for the latter to some degree.

In a state of shock I sit, pondering the words to type after reading this masterful piece. There are none to properly articulate the response I wish to convey, thus I am left with only two options. The first to create new words, but then I would only know what they truly meant. The second is to use a common internet idiom. I suppose I shall use the second, but understand that it understates the response I would have preferred to type.

This is full of win!


I end by saying: "OZ never did give nothing to the tin man, that he didn't already have"

It's better than great, it's... aguubwa. I had to make up a word to show how great it is!

Thanks guys. I really don't have a response to such praise, either, so it's okay. :)

This was... interesting, and extremely well written, like all your pieces. It is, as said, aguubwa.

It's interesting to see how he develops into, essentially, a doppelganger of human nature, and BECAUSE of this, because of his human side, is driven to seek a kind of revenge on Angie.