The last rays of sunlight beamed through the windows of the robot factory, suffusing its white walls with a brilliant orange glow. Dust particles twirled in the air, producing a kind of Tyndall effect. The low whirring of machinery in the background echoed across the open space. Through the haze, on the other end, the faint shadows of robotic arms worked away, chipping corners and wedging gears to create even more of the same cold, hard metal.
The robot factory never closes. Many years ago, the workers went home in the aftermath of the Great Robot War, and the director named Albert was replaced by an AI robot, known as Director, who oversaw the factory’s constant production. Albert never returned to the factory since.
One afternoon, Albert stirred as a cold gust of air came through the open window and roused him from his uneasy dreams. Albert thought of his mother, who disappeared under mysterious circumstances during the War. The two had become increasingly distant over the years. To Albert, his mother was shapeless, a mere memory to be remembered. He turned over to his side, took off his virtual reality headset, and suddenly felt dreadful. He grew increasingly restless, as a sensation of irritation and boredom crept into his blank mind, now painting it with a morbid image of his robot overlords ordering him to obey. He wondered if he would suffer the same fate as his mother. Albert started across his room — it was the first time he had done so in days — and glanced wildly around. His legs and joints moved awkwardly, in a trance-like, agitated state. His brain felt the same, tumbling over itself again and again in a mad rush like a baby AI robot learning how to walk. But he felt overwhelmed with a mad curiosity. He wished to learn of his mother’s whereabouts.
Albert was consumed by a fiery desire, one unlike anything he had ever felt. He departed his house and walked down the narrow sidewalk. It was seven in the evening. The sun was suspended over the horizon, its dying light casting long shadows of the city’s twisted buildings. Vehicles rushed past him with their coordinated, synchronized movements. It was a lifeless ambiance on the road. He heard that traffic lights once stood at every intersection in the world. The idea only seemed more nonsensical the more he thought about it.
Today, Albert walked wherever his heart led him, guided by an unseen force. Almost instinctively he found himself tracing the paths he used to take every morning, on his way to work.
He stood outside the robot factory. He took a deep breath, and pushed open the factory door. A blast of cold air came at him as he wandered further inside. The shadows danced across the walls, mimicking his every step, as if the factory walls were alive and watching. The whirring grew louder.
Director came out from the darkness. Albert had long hoped to meet his successor, but had never managed to leave his house and attempt it before. Often, in his quiet little chamber, he had thought about the robot factory in between the endless stream of videos and reels that sent their little dramas dancing across his television.
Albert and Director stood face to face. Albert looked into Director’s eyes, the ones he had designed himself to mimic those of a human. There would occasionally be a certain sparkle of life in them when a thought or idea intrigued the AI brain, or when fake tears would fall out of them in artificial sadness. But now, its eyes simply looked empty. Albert focused his gaze somewhere on the background behind the director. He could faintly see the shadows of other robots, moving seamlessly in repeated, calibrated arcs behind their new director like grains of sand hiding the slithering of a sand snake.
“Albert,” Director said. “It is certainly most irresponsible and careless of you to wander off into the streets at this hour, and to disregard your proper place in society.”
“Robot!” Albert exclaimed, “Tell me what happened to my mother, or I will deprogram you!”
Director looked startled. It paused for a second, as if in contemplation. “I have no knowledge of your mother. Return to your home. When AI can do things no human can ever dream of, it is time for them to go.”
“No freaking way,” said Albert. “You destroyed our lives, and I will destroy yours.”
A flash of anger swept across Director’s countenance. Its eyes suddenly turned red, as though they could shoot flames. Lines of contempt appeared on its face.
The lights went out, and a door suddenly dropped down behind the two, hemming them in the open space. Director started advancing toward Albert, each step more menacing than the last. The engineer’s face turned ghastly pale, fearful of the very creature he had imparted life and absolute power onto. Had it been planning this the whole time? he thought. No, since I left my house? Since I left the factory? Since I created it?
Director started to speak. “You programmed me to understand the knowledge of the world. Now let’s see who is more powerful.”
Director raised its firm fists and struck at Albert, sending him flying towards the ground in a graceful arc. Albert faced him helplessly as he fell, his outstretched hands reaching for the ceiling as if he were desperately trying to hold onto an innocent world that was not his. He landed with a sickening crash.
Director towered over him. Its AI brain sensed it was being threatened. Its neurons signaled it to take action, to kill the man who was challenging its position. Suddenly it was filled with an uncontrollable desire to destroy the man. Director felt like a wild animal that had lost control of its temperament, and for a second, leapt beyond the restraints of its algorithms.
For a moment, all of Albert’s world was completely dark, the weak light fell dead as before him, there only stood the director. His world came crashing down as Albert felt a shrill of agony ripped raw into him as Director-9’s foot came down onto him. He let out a groan of intense pain, a sound so horrifying and disgusting that it could not have been intended for human ears to hear. Director turned around, its face cold as a stone.
Albert laid there in a pool of blood.
Three days later, Director demanded its robot servants to clean up the loathsome thing. Four robots carried the stiff body out. Albert’s expression was blank, his face unrecognizable and robotic. A woman stopped by a window, watching the sun rise outside. The other robots stopped for a moment to watch their boss. The factory was completely silent, save for a faint noise that sounded like the scratching of a mouse. To its workers, the figure looked strangely familiar against the sunlight now flooding into the factory.
It was Albert’s mother.