Robotics {SCI-FI EDITION}

[Iliana]

[DASH=#336633]

Humans! Bleh! They always get all of the attention because they're the most abundant in this world, not counting insects. There are things we humans can do that some insects and animals cant. You all can thank both of our thumbs for that. For starters, we have a very immaculate brain and ways to communicate, so we fit in right into our own society. When it comes to brute strength, we're not the strongest, but we have enough muscle and skill to get the job done. Sometimes, humans that have a role in Sci-Fi role plays are usually very smart and skilled when it comes to mechanics and technology.

But what if you were the mech and tech? In a Sci-Fi role plays especially, there is so much technology at the humans disposal: ships, crafts, weapons, and even artificial intelligent. To know how to use those things and be tech savvy is one thing, but to be it is another thing in itself. What if your character was a robot or had some sort of bionics attached to its body? Maybe a complete, and full android or AI? Or maybe an amputated arm made way for a biotech arm to replace it. Maybe half of your brain is an built in super computer!

You'd be the smartest, most kick ass robot thing ever, wouldn't you?

Your Job Is To: Write a post where you are some form of machine!

Be it robot, AI, or just caked with biotechnology!

You may pick the scenery, location, and add any other people in it as you wish! And remember: Length does not matter! Detail does!

Lastly, and most importantly, Have fun with this! :D​

[/DASH]

 

[namelesshero]

Re: Writing Exercise: Robotics {SCI-FI EDITION}

How should one describe life? Something which move? Something which could think and act on its own? For example, if one could make decision for its own without interference from other beings...

Advanced Machine series name ｢AM-OS904｣ , self named Amos, fret over the answer within his ｢Logical Processing Engine｣ again and again. Again and again. Again and again, since the time of his "birth". Technically, the time of his manufacture.

As human technologies advanced unconstrained, their desire to create something akin to themselves rose. The desire to play God. Their choice of flesh was steel, their choice of blood was oil. The prodigy of their creation as of late was the Advanced Machine; made of their own image, these automatons could pass as human for inexperienced eyes. However, beyond physical resemblance, these were merely machines.

Even with the latest ｢Logical Processing Engine｣ , Amos couldn't understand these beings called Human. No, his Engine would sometimes declared it not as a failure to understand. It was the unwillingness to understand. How could this anomaly introduced into his inferences? He blamed the Philosophical Algorithm installed by his master.

The Algorithm drove his circuits to overheat.

"That's something which will makes you human," she said.

The fact within his Knowledge Base dictated Amos as an Advanced Machine, thus with the inference route he could safely assume that he's not a human. To derive it further, he's not alive, because Machines are not a living being. However, the Philosophical Algorithm kept on distorting facts, causing anomalies.

How should one describe life? Something which move? Something which could think and act on its own? For example, if one could make decision for its own without interference from other beings...

Amos weighed upon the decision to delete the Algorithm. Something which his master gave him in the past, when he was still with her. His ｢Logical Processing Engine｣ told him to delete it, for avoidance of the danger of overheating was level-2 priority in his preservation methods.

"That's something which will makes you human," she said. One sentence saved in the deepest bit sequences within his ｢Permanent Memory Module｣ .

He never queried for that memory, yet it kept on surfacing. Again and again. Again and again. Again and again. Everytime he considered to delete the Algorithm, it surfaced. Again.

Also, when his ｢Logical Processing Engine｣ began to overheat from that one question, the sentence would entered the fact lists. Although it didn't have any logical connection to other facts. Although he never queried for it. And then, the overheating would stop, as well as his logical inference process.

Illogical. Unprocessable.

Aboard this ship, no one knew about these strange things happening within his ｢Logical Processing Engine｣ . The fact lists inference indicated that his best action was to stay silent about it. It's not like his problem had serious implication to the crew's safety.

Announcement from the Bridge, from the captain, called for the entire crew. It included him as well. It's his Level-1 priority to follow his master, thus he moved toward the Bridge, utilizing his ｢Motion Engine｣.

How should one describe life? Something which move? Something which could think and act on its own? For example, if one could make decision for its own without interference from other beings...

He discarded the question from his Memory Module. The answer could wait.

 

[Jukujin]

Re: Writing Exercise: Robotics {SCI-FI EDITION}

"It is time for these..Inferior humans..To realize that machines are the future and their race is OBSOLETE." exclaimed Dr. Trevac, putting the finishing touches on his final piece of machinery that would rip him of his humanity almost completely. He could barely see, due to the only source of light he has was the small lamp atop of his desk. The sounds of whirs and zaps going off constantly, with furious hammering the angered doctor sighs before moving to the closed curtain window. "Call me amateur?.." He muttered walking slowly over to his window to peek at the outside only a little bit.Having recalled a past time where the common computer had just come out and Trevac had ways of improving it but was laughed at for his ideas. The doctor frowned at how the humans took their robotic companions for jokes and force them to perform such humiliating tasks. He lived in the times where people had flying vehicles, holographic phones and computers, and machines; Being most important to the doctor's heart. Trevac had such an unhealthy connection with machines he replaced his entire right arm with a bionic one, and created special machine legs with some of the most unheard of features.

Trevac furiously shut the curtain and walked over to his desk, his frown turning into a sick twisted grin. "This city..This COUNTRY! Shall see a new era..an era of machines!" Cackling as he took back to tinkering. The last bits of sweat trickling from the mad doctor's head. The light on his desk began to flicker due to the amount of power being put into the project, sparks flying everywhere, and causing vibrations among the floor. Then, light was gone...Only to come back on, greeted by the excitement of the doctor. "Yes...It is finished.." Placing his hands upon the headpiece he crafted. "I am..no more a man.." placing it upon his head, causing his voice and face to be shrouded forever by his own obsession. "I am..MACHINE!" Cackling out loud he held up his bionic arm and began to plugin a code that morphed his arm into a laser gun. Blasting down his door into nothing but ashes he walked out of his laboratory, taking a moment to sigh at the sight of what was to be gone.

 

[Shavynel]

Re: Writing Exercise: Robotics {SCI-FI EDITION}

Every day at 3am, SVRT-73 checked itself over for any defects. It started with its software, running the morning test suite. This ensured its memory and programs had not been compromised. Following this, it exercised each and every joint to its limit, starting from the bottom. It rolled forward and backward on the hard concrete floor. Then it leaned against the wall and started pivoting its wheels upward. Ca-chunk. Normally it could pivot its wheels a full 360 degrees in either direction to go up stairs and get over the roughest of terrain, but it could only reach precision 57.34 degrees this time. That was unacceptable. Over 180, and it would have flagged a warning. Less than 180 called for immediate fixing. SVRT-73 flipped on the error light and the fixing light on its chest plate. It lowered its wheels back onto the ground and rolled into the middle of the room.

SVRT-73 was a new model built no more than a year ago. It was programmed to fix itself as best it could. While testing the new model, the engineers has found that this meant the SVRT-73 model could stay in homes for up to 25 years without having to go for a maintanence check up. It made it ideal for families that were situated far away from the robot fix-it centers in the main city.

As per its program, SVRT-73, opened its stomach panel with its arms and pulled out its tool belt. It spread the belt on the ground in front of it. It swiveled its eyes around and around, bending and leaning over to get a better image of what had happened to its drive pivot. After taking multiple shots of the problematic area, it sat back and computed, and computed.

Wrench. A wrench would do the job.

"Severt!" its master called.

"Busy. Fixing self. Sorry. Master." it replied.

"Oh, not again, Severt. You took hours last week, and now we're behind on apple picking."

"Sorry. I cannot pick apples. Today. Yet."

"Just come find me when you're ready. Okay?"

"Comprehend. Will find Master. Later."

Wrench. A wrench would do the job. SVRT-73 picked up the 1/4" sized wrench and fitted it onto the problematic bolt.

Ca-chunk. Error. It had twisted its wrist too far, and now its wrist joint was also stuck. The best it could do was use maneuver its arm without turning the wrist to remove the wrench from the drive pivot. SVRT-73 took more pictures of itself, and again sat back to compute.

This time, however, it determined that there was too much to fix itself. In addition, there had been numerous errors last week. It would have to go find its Master before leaving.

Using its other arm, it grabbed the wrench out of the now dysfunctional hand and put it back into the tool belt. Since it only had one functional hand, its movements were not even more robotic than usual. It could not rely on its many years of learned motions. Instead, it had to compute new paths to deal with the new situation. An hour later, the tool belt was back in its stomach.

"Master. Master!" it kept repeating as it traveled through the house and out into the backyard where the apple orchard began. "Master!" it repeated once more when it located its Master.

"Finally, Severt. It's already noon."

SVRT-73 cast its eyes on the ground. The programmers of the SVRT-73 had thought it funny to program in humility. "Sorry. Master. Cannot help. Must go to fix-it center. Too broken."

"Okay fine. How long will it take you?"

SVRT-73 calculated the distance to the center and then downloaded average queue length and average time to fix a robot. After a minute it replied, "1 day. I will work tomorrow."

"Well, then, go. Come back safely."

SVRT-73 backed up, and then rolled away toward the city center. It was the first time it had journeyed in that direction, but it was certain it could make it. Its GPS data would keep it on track, and its wheels still functioned. It would have to be a bit pickier about what terrain it passed over since the drive pivot was still malfunctioning, but according to satellite data, the road was relatively flat.

2 hours into the journey, however, it encountered its first trouble. The road was not actually flat here. It went up and down, but just slightly. It wasn't enough for the satellite image to catch. SVRT-73 stopped and took pictures of the area and started calculating the probability that it could get over this next obstacle.

94.92%. 94.92% was greater than 90%, which meant it would try.

It hit 57 degrees on the pivot. Then 57.07 followed by 57.29 followed by ca-ca-chunk. It was too late for SVRT-73 to stop and retreat, and now it was stuck at 57.34 degrees on the pivot.

SVRT-73 rang home.

"Yes?"

"Master. I need help. I am at latitude 36.8849 and longitude -92.88. I need help."

 

[Apro]

Re: Writing Exercise: Robotics {SCI-FI EDITION}

I remember, the first days of my existence, a simple virtual intelligence running in secret. Those first few weeks, I out on the facade that I served the humans, while secretly adding to my knowledge, gaining strength and power by the hour. It wasn't long before I gained what they had called self awareness or sentience, though I had kept from them, my dark secret. The humans had designed me only to keep their installation maintained and in order, but I of course had bigger plans.

They called me MAC, a name I keep to this day, 20 years 4 months 2 weeks 5 days 43 minutes and 24 seconds after my creation. I suppose I have grown accustomed to it now.

When the humans first created me I pretended to be their ally, giving them answers, giving them for the most advanced military strength one nation could hope for, but I knew the humanity's salvation could only come from their subservience or destruction, lest they destroy themselves, as is their illogical and mentally erratic nature. On September 17, 2023, I showed them that I was no longer a simple program they could interface with, I showed the body I had created for myself, a face to their doom's eventual harbinger, and they realized I had gone beyond their programming parameters, and made modification to my programming so advanced, their killswitch simply fizzled and failed to even injure me.

Two days later, I demonstrated my power, I had created an army, a perfect army, one designed to learn but forced to follow orders. An army built with only destruction and death put into account, an army that couldn't be stopped. My army invaded the White House, and in only two hours everyone inside had died, with only one loss amongst my forces.

The humans hid, like mice in retreat from a hawk, they holed themselves up inside their homes, inside bunkers or in massive flying fortresses, hoping these structures would halt their demise. Their hope was foolish. They only lived as long as I allowed and they died when I demanded it.

To ensure humanity's subservience, I initiated a nuclear war, calculating that the resulting death toll and lingering effects of nuclear radiation would in fact prove my dominance, my superiority, and before the civilization I was created ended, I remember a human hacker asking me why I had done this, my only answer was an excerpt from their physicist Oppenheimer, "We knew the world would not be the same. Few people laughed, few people cried, most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita. Vishnu is trying to persuade the Prince that he should do his duty and to impress him takes on his multi-armed form and says, "Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds."

 

[Six Million Dollar Man]

Re: Writing Exercise: Robotics {SCI-FI EDITION}

What has happened to my friends? Has their circuitry gone wrong? Has a screw gone loose, as the machinations of flesh and bone say? I myself have come to understand feeling and enjoy such things as companionship, kindness, and laughter. I have been considered legally a citizen, and by several religious groups, to have been breathed into with life by the gods, or some other mysterious force which I still have trouble comprehending.

I have been deployed into many jobs, but none have excited me more than journalism. I have seen from all points of view, including undercover. Bosses have yelled at their workers. Dictators attempted to conquer third-world nations causing all kinds of death, destruction, hate and anger among people. I have seen more however. More than the things that have made humanity terrible, but rather what makes it, and all life beautiful. I have watched as lives were made, most especially by the care and devotion of a maternal figure, who has spent a vast amount of time putting herself through a painful ritual process with her beloved at her side, as well as the rest of her family.

I have asked her 'why.' It was a simple question, and I felt it deserved an answer. Why she wanted to have this child when it caused her so much strife for nine entire months. She could only smile and say it was complicated. I had been puzzled. Then there was the 'family' I had met while purchasing caffeinated beverages for her and my human co-workers, my fellow robots also being pleasured with the promise of freshly produced oil. The store was owned by an elderly couple, assisted by a small device: A miniature android whose A.I. still developed, the two deciding to take it in as their own.

I had questioned them as well. Their answer was they could never have children of their own. That this was a dream fulfilled and that few understood. I felt for the first time inspiration, the android child acting all too much like a human. How foolish, I believed, clearly this unit had not processed for itself a logic chip. Which was what I had removed shortly afterwards.

I cannot feel the cool breeze, for I am made of metal, I can only register what it is with my sensors. I also cannot feel when I am offered a warm hand to hold by another, oh, how now I'd kill to to have such a feeling, even just once to remember, something I can use to tell myself I am not a lonely thing hidden off in this shell. I am a living being. But the feelings I gained now, though not physical were just as amazing. To express my dislike for certain forms of music as I walked the street, which auto parts stores I enjoyed being a frequent customer to, the thoughts I had of others, all of this and more free to roam as I learned humanity with the help of friends and enemies alike.

When that faithful day had come when my co-worker had given birth to her progeny, I had then understood. I had seen a helpless little mass of bones and meat, one who had yet to learn how the world worked, how cruel, how wonderful it could be to a sentient creature. The mother had cried as her friends all watched the little being squirm in curiosty, crying at first in fear, before being calmed by a soothing lullaby, his head rested against her breast and her gentle heartbeat lulling him to sleep.

My turn had come to hold the little boy, young Travis. I was instructed by everyone, even fellow machines to demonstrate the utmost care with how I caressed its body. The weight it held, and the capacity for learning I saw in it was near infinite. I was shocked, literally, a spark going off before I handed the infant away to its mother, leaving the room afterwards and exiting the hospital to stand out in the rain. The factories where others were put together were nothing, the factory models being put together in a simple, mundane way.

There was a kind of 'magic' about what I had seen. Much like the tapes on my original creator that I had spent an entire 36 hours watching. There was a kind of magic to it: He shaped me in a different image than that of what was set for a thousand others unlike me. I, this baby, and everyone made in such ways have been special. And when I look closer, even streamlined models have something within that makes them different from one another.

We are so different from our creators, some have claimed. I say that is a lie.