“I’m not particularly afraid of water,” I said. “But I’d still seal up my pipes tightly if I’m building a sewer system.”
“It’s not the same,” M-Bot said. “The pattern here is obvious. My creators—my old pilot, Commander Spears—must have been truly afraid of me to put these prohibitions in place.”
“It might not have been him,” I said. “Maybe these rules are just the result of some ultra-cautious bureaucrats. And remember, powerful AIs are somehow connected to the delvers. You’re supposed to anger them. It might not have been you that anyone was afraid of—it might have been the dangers you could bring.”
“Still,” M-Bot said. “Spensa? What about you? Are you afraid of me?”
“Of course not.”
“Would you be if I could fire my own weapons, fly myself around? Copy myself at will? One M-Bot is your friend. But what about a thousand of us? Ten thousand? I’ve been researching Old Earth media. They certainly seemed frightened of the idea. Would you fear us if I became an army?”
I had to admit, it made me hesitate. I imagined that thought, turning it over in my head.
“You told a story,” M-Bot said, “about a shadow who took the place of the man who had created him.”
“I remember.”
“What if I’m the shadow, Spensa?” M-Bot said. “What if I’m the thing from the darkness that tries to imitate men? What if I can’t be trusted? What if—”
“No,” I said, firmly cutting him off. “I trust you. So why wouldn’t I trust you a thousand times over? I think we could do far worse than having a fleet of M-Bots on our side. It might get a little strange to talk to you all, but . . . well, my life isn’t exactly normal these days anyway.”
With all the proper parts removed, I scooted out from under M-Bot and rested my hand on his tarped-over wing. “You’re not some dangerous shadow of a person, M-Bot. You’re my friend.”
“As I am a robot, your physical and verbal reassurances are mostly wasted on me. I cannot feel your touch, and I find your simple affirmations to be the result of you reinforcing your desired worldview, rather than a fully evidenced examination of the topic.”
“I don’t know what you are, M-Bot,” I said. “You’re not a monster, but I’m not sure you’re a robot either.”
“Again, do you have any evidence of these suppositions?”
“I trust you,” I said again. “Does that make you feel better?”
“It shouldn’t,” he said. “Why are we pretending? I simply imitate feelings in order to better—”
“Do you feel better?”
“. . . Yes.”
“Proof,” I said.
“Feelings aren’t proof. Feelings are the opposite of proof.”
“Not when the thing you’re trying to prove is someone’s humanity.” I smiled, then ducked under the tarp—I’d left some slack near the cockpit—and pushed my way over so I could reach inside. “What do we do with the drone if you can’t program it?”
“I can program it,” M-Bot said. “It will simply have a basic, routine set of programs—no personality, no simulated emotions. A machine.”
“That will do,” I said. “Keep working on it.”
I gave Doomslug a scratch on her head and picked her up, then gathered the parts I’d taken off M-Bot and walked back down into my bedroom. M-Bot put my next task onto the screen there: I needed to combine the sensor unit, the holographic unit, and the jamming array into a single box he’d ordered. I set to work, following M-Bot’s instructions.
It took less time than I’d expected. All that was left was to wire it in such a way that we could attach it to the bottom of the drone. It would hang down like a fruit from a branch—not particularly elegant in design, but it would let the drone activate camouflage, record what it saw, and hide from sensor sweeps. Theoretically, I’d be able to let it loose in the bathroom of the Weights and Measures, then leave it to carefully make its way—invisibly—to Engineering and take some photos of the place.
M-Bot was skeptical that simple photos would be enough, and had insisted that we include an entire sensor unit to measure things like radiation. But I had an instinct, perhaps related to my abilities. I was close to figuring something out, a secret related to cytonics, and how the Superiority used them. If I could just see those hyperdrives . . .
“Spensa?” M-Bot said. “Someone is at the door downstairs.”
I looked up from my wiring, frowning. “Is it Chamwit? I’ll need to send her away—maybe