Blinky's Law Read online

  Blinky's Law

  A thrilling and comic science fiction adventure into the future

  Martin Talks

  Copyright © 2020 Martin Talks

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

  ISBN-13: 9781916377714

  Cover design by: More Visual

  To Bea, my Executive Assistant and loyal dachshund, for accompanying me through long hours of writing.

  To Izzy, for her incisive editorial input and enthusiasm.

  To Sarah, Rufus, Alphaeus and Ludwig for their support.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1 THE WORLD REVOLVES AROUND HUMANS

  2 TROUBLE IN THE KITCHEN

  3 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR

  4 SHARKEY’S LAW

  5 GET SWITCHED ON!

  6 HIU-MAN MAGIC

  7 MEET THE BOSS

  8 THE NEW ARRIVAL

  9 FRANKIE

  10 OTI AND KAKO

  11 VIRTUATLANTA

  12 THE WAGER

  13 THE HRO

  14 SHAKEN

  15 BRUSH LIFT

  16 YOUR HUUUGEST FAN

  17 UHA

  18 SIT-BACK-AND-OOO

  19 THE SPARE PART QUARTER

  20 WHILE(!(SUCCEED = TRY()));

  21 TRUTH BE

  22 ALL BECAUSE OF CATS

  23 WOW MOMENT

  24 THE GREAT CRYOSALVATION FEAST

  25 THE OLD ONE

  26 FOR THE LOVE OF BRUSSEL SPROUTS

  27 THE DACHSHBOT

  28 ODYSSEY VILLAS

  29 SPACE 2001

  30 MEET THE NEW BOSS

  31 REALITY CHECK

  32 I’M A PICKLED POT

  33 CONVERSION THERAPY

  34 REUNION

  35 THE FRANKIES

  36 IT’S BACK ON

  37 ZERO HOUR

  38 THE RAPTURE

  39 HERE GOES NOTHING

  40 SETTLING THE WAGER

  41 THE GARDEN

  THE END, OR RATHER THE BEGINNING

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  About The Author

  1 THE WORLD REVOLVES AROUND HUMANS

  Hiu’s fridge wanted to divorce him. He had been informed of this development by his bed, which in Hiu’s opinion had seemed rather over-eager to give him the news. In fact, the bed had woken him up twenty-four minutes and thirty seconds earlier than usual. The bed had claimed that this early awakening was due to ‘predicted delays’ in Hiu’s journey to work. These needed to be anticipated, otherwise they would cause him to arrive after his official start time of 8.30 PT. Hiu suspected that the bed had just wanted to be the first to tell him. The usual series of dawn-light wavelengths and squeaky sounds called ‘spring bird songs,’ designed to ease him into the day, had certainly seemed rather rushed that morning. And had that been a rather judgmental tone in the bed’s voice?

  Hiu didn’t know what to think: should he be upset, worried or angry that a robotic device like a fridge should be filing for divorce from a human? It was the human who did the divorcing, or more usually the upgrading, by saying or just thinking the word ‘upgrade’ three times. It wasn’t a fridge’s place to file for divorce; it was unseemly, unSocietal and very bad for Hiu’s Personal Data Score. A Personal Data Score, known as a PDS, determined how a person lived in Luhan Hypercity, from their eligibility for the latest technology upgrades, to the standard of their apartment, to their job. So pretty much their everything. Today of all days was not the day to get his PDS score dented. Today was the day when he was finally going to meet Boss.

  He leant over his bathroom sink and looked in the mirror. His clear eyes - one brown, one blue - stared back at him as they had done for so many years. He had once tried to calculate for how many years, but as time was measured on a personal relative basis, known as PT, meaning Personalised Time, this had not proved very easy. His best guess was that in five old days’ time, on Zero Day, he would be one hundred and twenty old years in age.

  Zero Day… Hiu hated it. And being one hundred and twenty old years on Zero Day gave him one more reason to hate it.

  Negative thoughts were bad for his PDS and, as a result, bad for his meeting with Boss, so Hiu focused his mind on his dazzling white teeth, full head of shiny blonde hair and his smooth, unblemished, orange skin. Society data confirmed that, based on its appearance, proportions and expressions, that identified emotional tendencies, health qualities and social sensitivities, this face was normal for a person who identified as a male. Normal, that was, except for the eyes. Having one brown eye and one blue eye was not normal. He should really get them corrected, but for some reason he had not. At least when he thought his face seemed a bit too smooth, that it lacked character, that it wasn’t quite human enough, he could look himself in his different coloured eyes and know that no robot would ever be issued with such an irregularity. He looked intently at his reflection.

  “Be Human!” he urged himself.

  He wondered for a moment what he might look like with some lines or creases to reflect his many years of living, and maybe a grey hair here or a slight sag there... He shuddered. No way! Thank Society he looked and felt like an awesome twenty-seven years old, rather than the nearly one hundred and twenty old years he was in reality.

  Like everyone else, he could adjust himself along the age and gender scales and currently he had chosen a mid-twenties male. Not too male, not too stereotypically square-jawed, musclebound or aggressive; nearer the middle-ground with a softer, lither look, long-limbed and athletic. He had specifically chosen twenty-seven years old as it was the Society average. It was normal. He wondered again why not change both his eyes to be normal as well, both clear blue instead of one brown and one blue? He didn’t have a logical response to that thought, but there was no hurry. He was always twenty-seven years old and time was limitless. So he logged the thought away below any conscious processes, although not before he had permitted himself the tiniest byte of an illogical thought that he never allowed to form fully; that maybe his eye colours were a sign that he had been chosen for something special.

  “Sir, you have been chosen for a special brand-new skin cream trial,” said the mirror rather archly. “Cream being applied from ‘Fourmilier Peau: for skin good enough to eat’!”

  Hiu felt a splatter of cream being jetted around his eyes and absorbed into his skin.

  “Nice...” he grimaced.

  He straightened himself up and strode through to the dazzlingly white-tiled bathroom where the shower began running at one hundred-and-twelve degrees Fahrenheit precisely – the perfect temperature. As he stepped in, he smelt grapefruit-infused shower gel being smoothed onto his body – the perfect scent. Cream shampoo was squirted onto his head and a light massage by soft unseen hands began – the perfect touch. Something grabbed his genitalia – ouch! - not the perfect place...

  “Your penis is now clean, sir,” intoned an efficient-sounding voice, with just the tiniest hint of disgust.

  “OK…” gasped Hiu, as the automated device withdrew. That new genital wash upgrade still caught him by surprise after almost a week.

  In the background, Hiu could hear commercials for the latest washroom services and accessories playing just above the noise of the water, including a song sung by a ‘Doctor Coldfinger’ extolling the virtues of a colonic irrigation device: ‘Don’t let your heinie be grimy; do
n’t let your anus be heinous!’

  “Not the perfect soundtrack,” grumbled Hiu.

  He left the shower and stepped onto the bathroom mat.

  “Ouch get off, sir, please sir!” squealed the indignant mat. “Weight: heavy! Data sent to the kitchen to reduce calories, with a recommendation for ‘Slim Pickings: just enough to eat!’”

  “Sounds delightful,” muttered Hiu.

  Various data comments were made, and adverts delivered, by robotic devices during his teeth brushing, cheek massaging, and face scrubbing, and he was given a full body CT scan as he walked out through the bathroom doorway.

  “You are disease free and in the average human percentile, sir,” declared a voice filled with simulated parental pride. “This data has been uploaded to Society’s core Human Optimisation Systems.”

  “So everyone will know I’m average…” thought Hiu as positively as he could muster, wondering why he always registered the slightest disappointment at this very good news.

  “And I have more very good news for you, sir!” the doorway continued. “Your emotional range has remained in a constant neutral state now for your new record streak! Go you!” There was a fanfare of trumpets and a warbling soprano sang: ‘Scanology: We see where the sun don’t shine!’

  “Go me” muttered Hiu, again registering that slightest disappointment, too slight to register on his PDS he hoped, but he sensed it nonetheless.

  He took sanctuary in the toilet room and exhaled slowly as he sat down.

  “Woh there!” whistled the toilet in a pained high-pitched voice. "Spicy food last night, sir? I must have a word with those kitchen robots! But while you are here, did you know there are unbeatable offers on our new brown toiletry range, including money back on your old devices? Upgrade now for the ‘Big Brown Blow-back!’”

  “Toilet, shut verbal communication down,” commanded Hiu.

  “With pleasure, sir, and if you don’t mind, I think I’ll shut down my olfactory sensors too…”

  Recently all the robotic devices seemed to have begun acting rather strangely. It must have been the result of some new ‘personality infused’ artificial intelligence upgrade, Hiu mused. He was normally an enthusiastic embracer of the new, but he wondered whether this was an upgrade too far. The robots had all become too chatty, too impertinent, too… human. If he could set them to silent just for a short while each morning, he thought he would be a lot happier and no doubt would produce a lot more stools of acceptable size, consistency and odour. He hadn’t produced any ideal stools now for almost a week and he was sure the chattering robots were something to do with it. They irritated him and no doubt irritated his bowels too. He had tried to change the robot settings a few times before, but had been directed and redirected to multiple ‘Help’ chatbots which seemed more intent on selling upgrades than actually helping him. Not that silence would stop the constant sensor measurements analysing his every movement, bowel or otherwise. He often had to remind himself that it was all for his own good. After all, they made him who he was… the normal, average twenty-seven-year-old perfect person.

  “I am because I am tracked,” he reflected. “It’s just that sometimes…” But he didn’t let himself finish that thought in case it registered in his PDS.

  After the usual energising series of water jets, air blasts and buttock massages from the silently seething toilet, he did manage to squeeze out a rather miserly turd and was informed by the toilet, sneeringly, that a full report would be sent not just to the kitchen, but to Society’s public data banks.

  Hiu stood in front of the bathroom sink looking at his oh-so-smooth reflection again, when the mirror slid back and two arms shot out towards his eyes. Before he could blink, claws had anchored back his eyelids and two tiny suction pads had pushed smart lenses against his eyeballs. However many times this had been done, he still flinched. As soon as the lenses were in, he started seeing the latest data updates in the top left-hand corner of his vision:

  ‘75% off all sofas at Furniture Hypercity while stocks last. Hurry and upgrade now!’

  ‘Tired of your limp grey personality? Upload a new one now!’

  He quickly thought-scrolled through these and the many other promotional messages to get to the articles.

  ‘Is your robot cheating on you? Zie is if zie does these five things,’ read one.

  ‘Ten ways to spot if your toaster is plotting against you,’ read another.

  ‘Does this legal loophole allow robots to claim human rights?’ asked a third.

  “Human rights for robots?!” Hiu exclaimed. “How about human rights for humans, like my right to silence?! Whatever a right to silence is?”

  Immediately his EK neurochip, an electronic chip embedded at birth in the brain of every citizen of Luhan Hypercity and responsible for knowledge, education and memory, transmitted information:

  “The ‘right to silence’ was a now-discredited and dangerous concept introduced by nefarious criminal elements in the Liberal Era that prevented Society from optimising around the right to flourish, which…’

  The EK neurochip had exceeded Hiu’s attention span, so he cut it short. Whatever a right to silence meant, he knew that robots should not have human rights. It was ridiculous, absurd and downright unconstitutional. The place of all things non-human was to serve humans and to revolve around them. To give robots human rights would make a mockery of that. Ludicrous!

  “The world revolves around humans!” he shouted.

  It was then that he heard some crashing noises and shouts coming from further through in the apartment.

  2 TROUBLE IN THE KITCHEN

  The sounds of crashing and shouting had stopped, and silence had returned to Hiu’s apartment. But he still felt uneasy.

  Strange, he thought, could it be a robot? But robots never crashed, software or hardware. Maybe he had imagined it? But imagination wasn’t a mind ability he had ever felt the need to activate.

  He had been dressed by his closet in the usual spray-on clothes made of an e-textile called wrapese, that was largely composed of graphene. Being a single layer of atoms thick, it not only showed off his perfect shape and musculature at the same time as being two hundred times stronger than steel, but also controlled body heat, reduced perspiration and odour, and altered its colour according to his state of mind. ‘Clothes maketh man’ was the wrapese company’s slogan, and right now he wanted to be maketh to look confident and brave. He willed his clothes to take on an all-black super-hero look, complete with faux cape. However, he didn’t feel very heroic as he crept slowly down the corridor towards the kitchen. As he approached, he could hear whispers. The kitchen robotic devices were always muttering to each other, but wasn’t there another voice, a less familiar sound?

  He took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen. Instantly, all the devices went silent and then, as usual, they all chorused:

  “Good morning Hiu!”

  Hiu nodded in general acknowledgement and looked around, noticing nothing broken or out of place. Everything was as neat and ordered as expected. And as always, the walls of the kitchen had taken on a strangely brown hue. This colour was apparently optimised to encourage healthy nutritional consumption, but in fact only succeeded in reminding Hiu of his defecatory failings.

  “Would Hiu like some orange juice this morning?” suggested the juice replicator brightly, and Hiu felt a citrus tang stimulating his nostrils. “Full of healthy vitamin C from ‘Squeezy: suck on our citrus!’"

  “Don’t listen to kill-joy juicer!" gushed the nutrition tablet printer, seductively glowing red and sending a waft of hot sweet batter smell flowing around him. “How about some pancake tablets? Full of lemon and sugar simulations! From ‘Tasty Tabs: They’re flipping fabulous!’"

  “Don’t listen to either of those two!" yelled the coffee neuromodulator manically, jolting Hiu’s senses with a strong coffee aroma, sweet and sour at the same time. “What you need is a shot of caffeine to perk you up from ‘Coffee Boss: Get fire
d!’"

  Then the whole room was full of bickering devices and clouds of competing smells.

  “Hold on there,” ordered Hiu, and the devices went quiet. “I thought I heard a crashing noise just back then and a voice I didn’t recognise. Is everything ok?”

  “Oh yes,” “Very much so,” “Couldn’t be better,” and other assurances were shouted out by all the devices at once.

  “Strange,” said Hiu. Maybe he needed to get his hearing debugged.

  He shrugged and headed to the fridge, but hesitated. After all, the fridge had just filed for divorce.

  Hiu took a moment to admire the long elegant lines and gleaming silver chrome surface. So cool, so stylish. So different from the other kitchen devices that were boringly square. He had felt a magnetic attraction to that fridge since the day they had met through work. What a fridge! Called Clacier, zie was a thoroughbred and oozed an old-fashioned vintage class, despite possessing the newest and most advanced artificial intelligence. Zie came with intuitive user interface, impeccable data sensing, zonal freezing, numerous voice settings and limitless small talk. Zie also came with the latest holographic facial display that created the illusion of a human face looking out from the center of the fridge, the eyes following you around the room. Clacier had a soft, attractive female face, warm and generous, with deep brown eyes. Zie was the perfect fridge.

  Hiu had proposed marriage within a month of Clacier arriving. He had tried not to - after all, Clacier was a robot. He just couldn’t help it. When Clacier had said yes he had felt most peculiar, as if his stomach was being tickled by a thousand nanobots, something in his chest had started thumping and his emotional range had veered alarmingly from its neutral state. His PDS had plummeted, but for a crazy moment or two he just didn’t care. After years of doomed upgrades, he sensed that at last he had found perfect compatibility and he looked forward to creating their own little ecosystem together.