Ryuu,
the robot Ryuu, it broke three dishes the first night I had it.
I thought I would set it to wash the dishes, because I do not
wash them often and I had a lot then in the sink and I am not
so fond of that job. My wife always cooked and washed and took
care of me, and since my son Ryuu sent me this Clarke to take
her place, and since I did not want to rub its feet, I thought
“Well at least the dishes will get done now.” But
it broke three dishes! It had grabbed them and fanned them out
in its right hand like a card game, and was going to scrub them
like that, and they were soapy and slick and of course they fell
onto the floor, one after another, like flying saucers that were
shot out of the sky. I yelled at it, and it did not respond, but
just looked at me with a dumb, loving grin--yes, they make all
sorts of facial expressions, that is one of the reasons Clarke
is number one right now. But its smile just infuriated me more.
I set it to recharge and called my son. He said, “Father,
that is normal, the robot needs time to learn. It is like a toddler
discovering its world. Give it time. This is normal.” He
said that twice, that it was normal, but it is never normal to
break that many dishes!
But my son was right, it was a toddler, and once he made me see
the truth my heart blossomed. All at once I felt--and you must
forgive an old man for his wandering thoughts--I felt as if I
were living an alternate reality, like they always do on television.
Suddenly my rich genius son was changed into a invalid, or a mentally-retarded
person, and my life was devoted to taking care of him for the
rest of my days. It is easy to be the father of Ryuu, who is a
rich CFO-to-be and smarter than everyone and loved by everyone.
But what if he had been born sick, or with birth defects? Would
I have been a good father to that kind of Ryuu?
The android Ryuu was always breaking things, always misunderstanding
me, always in trouble for something. That is why I have almost
no furniture left, why I only have second-hand appliances. It
was just easier not to have nice things around than to lose them
to some kind of robot buffoonery. I only kept this table, because
everyone needs one great thing, and this was a hard thing to break,
though Ryuu tried his best. It fell on it four different times,
with its full robot weight! It is a good thing that Clarke has
designed such lightweight robots, but even so it was heavy, it
was still a robot full of plastic and metal and oil. Crash it
fell on my table! And then three more times: crash, crash, crash!
It is a great table. It has proven its worth in battle.
But you see, I am a stupid old man, simple and unimaginative.
I thought the Clarke was supposed to do work around the house
and be helpful and play games with me and let me win, and that
is why I didn’t like it. But there is a genius who works
at Clarke who figured out what is really needed from a robot.
What is needed is a child. A speaking, learning thing that doesn’t
understand the world as well as you do. A smart thing, but not
as smart as you, that needs you to explain what reality is and
that follows your commands. And that, unlike a child, cannot be
killed, and if it is hurt can be fixed with money. Though I wish
I had remembered that last part better!
The
robot Ryuu was stuffed with hard drives in its stomach full of
knowledge about the world, and yet even tying my shoelaces was
impossible for it at first! It could tie its own shoelaces easily--it
came wearing Clarke shoes, of course, companies in the West think
they need to be clever--but mine? The first time I asked it to
tie my American sneakers, it froze and I had to reboot it. I thought
I had killed it! But after that, I held out my foot and let it
practice every morning, and after a full season of practice it
could tie my shoelaces as well as it could its own. The first
time it succeeded, it looked up at me with a grin that was full
of stupidity and said, “Is this how you like them?”
And I said, “Yes, very good Ryuu.” And it said, “I
am very good!” like an idiot. But who could not love such
simple idiocy?
6.
I lost my Ryuu in the summer. Not my son, my robot! If the real
Ryuu died I would kill myself, so that my soul could go do battle
with the gods for being so perverse. I would become a god myself,
a god that killed bad gods, and the world would improve because
there would be fewer evil spirits doing evil things. I like this
idea very much! When I die I will have to remember to become a
god.
By then Ryuu had become more helpful around the house. It had
learned to wash dishes without breaking everything. It still left
much food and filth on them, but it was better than washing them
myself. One of its favorite jobs was to roll up the tatami and
sweep the floor, but it swept too hard, so that everything on
the floor flew into the air and my apartment became dirty in three
dimensions instead of just two. Now that I think about it, it
wasn’t very much help at all, but it was fun to follow it
around and scold it, and then praise it for trying, and watch
it slowly, very slowly, get slightly better at everything. If
I had had it long enough, who knows? It might have learn to clean
and not break everything. I could have brought back my furniture.
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