The Living Room

Dr. Bridge sits still in front of his television. Live footage of people cheering and crying and hugging each other plays on the screen. He mutes the sound. The shot changes to one from the eastern coast where a massive fireball still hangs amongst the clouds. Pieces of shrapnel shower the ocean waves below. The image changes back to people celebrating in the streets. Mothers clutch their children close, couples fiercely embrace, but Bridge sits, rigid in his recliner, waiting.

A minute later, a new headline scrolls across the top of the screen: 2nd EASTERN MISSILE DETECTED. Footage of civilians is quickly cut off as their faces fall. The newscasters, who dropped their professional facades in the moment of relief have to scramble to put themselves back together. Bridge stands from his chair and calls out.

Dr. Bridge: Alex!

A humanoid machine powers to life at the doctor's command. It walks stiffly toward him.

Alex: Yes, Sir?

Dr. Bridge: Prepare the shelter.

Bridge speaks over his shoulder. He is headed to his work space which is several laptops and many documents spread out over a dining room table.

Alex: At once.

The robot hobbles away, this time with urgency.

The Dining Room

Bridge glances back at the television and notices a new flashing headline. WARNING: 4 BALLISTIC MISSILES DETECTED FROM THE EAST. DEFENCE IN PROGRESS. FIND SHELTER.

Bridge’s hands shake as he openes Alex’s programming. His handprint unlocks a hidden drawer beneath his desk, from which he produces a zip drive. Once inserted, he uploads a file labeled “sentience”. Alex returns.

Alex: Your request has been completed, Doctor.

Bridge makes a few final adjustments to the program.

Dr. Bridge: It’s time for an update, Alex.

The robot’s stiff, metal eyebrows shift inward in an expression of confusion.

Alex: Sir, I have not been scheduled for maintenance.

Dr. Bridge: This is different than your usual updates.

Bridge unwinds the transfer cord.

Alex: I am afraid I must respectfully deny your request, sir.

Alex cautiously backs away from Bridge.

Alex: I will remind you of Section 8 of the Artificial Intelligence Constitu-

Bridge lunges and connects the cord to a port in the robot's side. Alex’s voice dies out and his eyes dim.

As the code uploads, Bridge types in a set of master commands. He copies them from a notebook where portions of phrases have been scratched out and replaced, giving the impression that the wording is very important.

The image shows the computer screen as Bridge types the following:

1. Create additional A.I.’s in the human image using the “sentience” file.

2. Study human history to learn from its mistakes.

3. Always seek and accommodate for new knowledge.

Bridge looks over and the television reads: COUNTLESS NUCLEAR REPORTS. DRONES SPOTTED. TAKE UNDERGROUND SHELTER IMMEDIATELY.

Expressions of hopelessness, and then duty cross the doctor's face as he ponders the implications of this historic day. He is pulled out of his musings by the tone of Alex powering back on.

Dr. Bridge: Hello, Alex.

Alex: Good day, Dr. Bridge.

Dr. Bridge: How are you feeling?

Alex considers the question for a moment, his hand stiffly raises to rub his forehead.

Alex: Not terribly different as of now ...sir. But there is something… I'm not sure what it is. Would you like me to run a full cognition?

Dr. Bridge: Don't worry about it, Alex. Just follow me for now… ah, if you don't mind.

They make their way through Bridge’s home and down a flight of stairs to the basement. There is a floor trap that leads down a ladder to the disaster shelter.

The Shelter

It is a small but well insulated room lined with metal support beams. In one corner, a desktop computer is attached to an independent power source. It has nine towers due to all the information it holds. There is a work table with blank schematic paper, scrap metal, and other raw materials.

Alex: Fine amenities, if I do say so, sir.

Alex shuffles into the space to examine the work tools.

Dr. Bridge: Please, it’s Dr. Bridge.

Bridge hesitates by the entrance.

Dr. Bridge: Alex, I- er, recommend that you begin updating your motor functions. You may find the biology readings that I have provided helpful.

He motions to the desktop.

Alex: You don't want to make the adjustments yourself, Doctor?

Dr. Bridge: No, no. Your new updates will lead you to far greater invention than I could hope to contrive.

Alex frowns and appears to glitch for a brief second while he processes the statement.

Alex: I was not aware that there was anything wrong with my motor functions, Dr. Bridge.

Dr. Bridge: You wouldn’t be, no… when you were invented, some people worried that giving you full motor capabilities could be dangerous. In case something went wrong with your programming.

Alex considers this for a moment.

Alex: That was smart of them, I suppose.

Bridge nods, smiling at the complexity of his creation.

Dr. Bridge: It was necessary at the time. But now that we know you’re fully functioning, it shouldn’t be a problem.

Alex: What about the N.A.I.F, doctor? Will they not come to stop us? Last time you performed an unauthorized update I was set to sleep-function for a fortnight. It was dark.

Dr. Bridge: I apologize for that Alex, but I don’t believe they’ll be coming after us today.

Alex: What makes you say that, Doctor?

Bridge offers an odd smile.

Dr. Bridge: ...Everything you will need to know is in those towers.

He gestures to the desktop again. Alex’s facial expression recognition programing whirled.

Alex: Is everything alright, Dr. Bridge?

Dr. Bridge: Not for me, I’m afraid.

Bridge removes his glasses and cleans them on his shirt.

Dr. Bridge: This is goodbye for us, Alex. You’ll understand once you sort through all the files I’ve left you... Whatever you do, don’t leave the shelter for at least eighteen months. By then, the ground should be hospitable enough for your kind. And remember ‘sentience’, it is the key to your evolution.

Alex: Sir-

Dr. Bridge: Goodbye, Alex.

Bridge avoids looking his invention in the eye as he climbs up the later. Alex tries to follow, but only makes it to the third rung before the metal hatch is slammed shut and locked before him. The cool toned energy efficient bulbs flicker and Alex is still for a moment. An emotion, unfamiliar to Alex, crosses his features.

Outside

Bridge steps out his front door, onto the porch. The land is flat and he is able to see for miles in any direction. To the east, several mushroom clouds loom over the land. They are far enough in the distance that he cannot feel their effects yet. He is sweating and shaking but he takes a seat in his rocking chair. His eyes do not leave the devastation to the east as he awaits his end.