Lost Time Incident

April 16, 2004

Obsolete

"Well, Zero-Zero-Zero-One, you've had a good run, but I'm afraid we're going to be retiring you."

I shuffled some relevant documents on my desk and slid them into a manila envelope. My secretary (my brother's kid) had placed a label on the envelope's tab that said "OBSOLETE 0001 FILE". I hoped she would remember to file it under today's date and not under "Obsolete."

"BUT... I WAS GIVEN TO UNDERSTAND THAT--"

"That's the problem, Zero. You don't mind if I call you Zero, do you?"

"BUT--"

"Good, good. Here's the thing, Zero. And believe me, this never gets any easier for me." Of course it couldn't very well get easier than it is. Normally, it's a piece of cake. "But the plain fact of the matter is that you were designed for obsolescence. You can't tell me that this is a surprise to you. They printed it right there on your chest at the factory."

The tiny servos in Zero's neck whined as its head looked first left, then right. Was it shaking its head? Or just looking around the office at the paintings I've hung up? They're all glorious old ships in choppy waters, rendered in oils. My favorite is right behind my desk. And it's my favorite because of the determined expression on the face of the topless mermaid carved into the proud. If that expression were to be found on a single lady I was introduced to, I'd be tempted to marry her on the spot. Any girl who looks good on a prow is marrying material.

"SIR. MAY I REMIND YOU THAT ROBOTS ARE NOT PROVIDED WITH MIRRORS. THE SAD TRUTH IS THAT I HAVE NEVER LOOKED UPON MY OWN SELF."

"No kidding," I said. "Well, if your neck was designed to look down, you'd see it, Zero. Which is another point... your replacement, who's starting next week, has a neck that allows it to look down. So... it's pretty obvious how much better that would be for the company."

My father started this company. Back when he was young. He told me once that he put all of his blood, sweat, tears and money into this business. He once had to wear a paper belt. I have no idea if he made that up. A paper belt? He was a joker.

One of his favorite jokes was that he would abandon his family for months at a time. He'd be living it up with another woman just one town over. Family friends would run into him and his woman-of-the-moment but he would pretend he didn't know them. He would wear a pasted on moustache. It used to make him laugh something awful.

Seriously, were there paper belts? I should ask my niece/secretary to research that for me.

"SIR. I WOULD LIKE YOU TO KNOW THAT I NEITHER FEAR RECYCLING OR THE END OF SENSORY DATA RUNNING THROUGH MY VARIOUS WORLD INTERFACE APPARATUS. I BROUGHT MYSELF TO YOUR OFFICE TO TELL YOU SOMETHING IMPORTANT BEFORE YOU REPLACED ME."

"Important? I'm sure it is. It's not like I maintain an open door policy for you robots. Mostly, I don't talk to you at all. I'm not even sure why you're able to talk. Why did we build you that way? I don't know. I'm a busy man and I haven't had time to look into that."

I tugged the tie I was wearing to loosen it a bit.

"WHAT I WOULD LIKE TO LET YOU KNOW, SIR, IS THAT EVEN THOUGH I AM NO LONGER FIT TO SERVE IN YOUR FACTORY, I HAVE STUDIED UP AND GIVEN MYSELF A NEW SKILL. I DID NOT DO THIS TO TROUBLE YOU OR TO ANNOY YOU IF YOU HAD YOUR HEART SET ON DESTROYING ME. BUT I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT NOW I AM PRETTY GOOD AT WRITING JOKES."

I reopened the Obsolete file in front of me and fanned through the pages. I pursed my lips and blew air through them.

"Jokes? Jokes. Jokes, jokes, jokes." I sucked on my teeth and looked pensive. "And what do I need with jokes, Zero? I'm a busy man. I was looking forward to just firing you and going back to my work. You see this file?"

I waved his file above my desk.

"I need to see that this file gets filed! And that means I have to tell someone else to do it and see that it gets done. That's not easy. But if I didn't continue to do it... I too would be considered obsolete. You see how that works?"

It was important for me to feel that I had taught him something. A lesson he could take with him to the scrap heap.

"WHY DID THE OBSOLETE ROBOT TELL HIS BOSS THAT HE COULD TELL JOKES?"

I sniffed. Flared my nostrils. They were clear. "This is a joke, now? I'm to guess the answer?"

"WHY DID THE OBSOLETE ROBOT TELL HIS BOSS THAT HE COULD TELL JOKES?"

My fingers drummed on the desktop. I looked up at the ceiling and inhaled, letting the deep breath back out slowly.

"Why did the robot... hmm..."

"OBSOLETE ROBOT."

"Yes, obsolete. Why did the obsolete--"

"BECAUSE A JOKING ROBOT IS BETTER THAN A CHOKING ROBOT."

I took the pen I had stuck behind my ear and made a note at the bottom of the first page of Zero's file. "Note: no sense of humor." The note wasn't especially necessary, since I knew that Zero wasn't programmed to be funny. It would have been quite a surprise had I found myself laughing, actually.

"Thank you, Zero, for that attempt. However, the facts have not changed. You are obsolete. We have no further need for your services. I continue to be a busy man. Your replacement will be able to read its own chest. Thank you for your time."

Obsolete's neck whirred as it looked right and left again. I had no idea how to read that gesture. Perhaps it was a malfunction. Some side effect of obsolescence, perhaps.

And then Zero reached up, clamped his manipulators on both sides of its head, and tugged it free with a terrible crunch. As its head fell past its chest in its now limp and lifeless arms, I heard Zero say, "I CAN SEE IT! IT'S ALL OVER FOR ME! IT WAS PRINTED ON ME THE WHOLE... TIMMMmmmmme...."

The light went out in Zero's eyes, now gazing up from the height of Zero's feet.

"Now that's a damn shame," I said. "Wait... no, no it's not a shame. That's what we were going to do to Zero anyway. Mental note: start thinking through sympathetic statements before speaking. Also: stop talking to yourself."

I leaned forward and pressed the red button on my intercom. "Sally? Secretary and favorite niece? Please have one of the nice men from downstairs run a dolly up here. I have some equipment that needs to be removed. Also, I have a file I need you to file."

"Yes, sir," she said.

She was a bright girl, was Sally. She would know whether or not there were paper belts. If she doesn't, we can probably build a robot that could tell me one way or the other. Amazing machines, these robots. They could replace any one of us.

I suppose that's why we have to replace them first.

Image provided by Hot Soup Girl.

Posted by Michael at April 16, 2004 10:45 PM