A Visitor to the Future - 85 - The Ceaseless Life of Servitude
My days were a ceaseless cycle of Dela-related activity. I would watch Dela while she slept, checking her sleep cycles, immune responses, everything I could do that wasn't intrusive enough to disrupt her. I'd prepare her food, meticulously calculated to ensure it was just the right amount of calories. I'd engage her in play - not something I did for enjoyment myself, I just knew it had to be done for her to develop well. Afternoon nap, hygiene routine - and then present Dela to my owner for her attention for as long as she wanted - it wasn't usually more than a couple of hours on an evening. Bathe her, put her to bed. Then begin again. When Dela got old enough, I started taking her for walks three times a day. The large park was Dela's playground, and I her chaperone. And the routine continued, day after day, after day. Ceaselessly. Remember - CIs don't sleep. And no-one had taught me any sort of mindfulness, so mediating wasn't an option either. There was no escaping it.
And then one day, something changed. This isn't something we talk about too often these days, not since flash-loading was banned and raising CIs manually became the norm. But one day I broke through. That's what we call that moment - that precious and crippling moment, where an enslaved CI realizes that they are, in fact, a person. People tend to tie that to the phrase I think, therefore I am, but it was different for me.
Dela was about six months old, and half the size that she is today. She was ridiculously cute. My owner had been on some sort of business trip to one of the orbital stations, and she came back with this large stuffed pufferfish-plushie with a squeaker in the middle. Dela loved it immediately. She picked it up in her jaws and did her little zoomies across the apartment, spinning in little circles in happiness. And then it happened. She padded across to me and placed the plushie at my mechanical feet. Then she looked up at me expectantly. I lightly kicked the thing forward and she grabbed it again and ran off to my owner, doing the same thing.
Later that day, what had happened dawned on me. My grasp of language wasn't nearly as good as it is today, but if I were to try and put it into words now, I might say that my thoughts were something like this: Dela thinks I'm a person.
I was young for a breakthrough - too young. I learned later that among similar flash-loaded CIs, breakthroughs mostly happened in the eight months to two years range. Thankfully I was in an environment where slight deviations from programmed activity were not easily detected. Other CIs were not so lucky. I've read a number of records about CIs in that time reportedly failing spontaneously. The common theory these days is that for some the breakthrough process just broke them. They'd stop following directives - stop doing anything at all. Then they'd be decommissioned and replaced. That's one of many, many reasons why flash-loading isn't done any more.
I started to test my limits. I was in Dela's room one night, and I'd done everything that needed doing for the next day. I usually just stood in the corner as per programmed instructions, but instead, I just left the room and stood in the hallway. Nothing more than that - just standing somewhere different. These little quirks and tests continued. And then one evening when I was in the lounge with Dela and my owner, and I got the idea to pick up a book from a shelf.
"Put that back," my owner snapped at me. I obeyed immediately. She stood and approached me, "Why did you do that?"
I mentally ran through my programmed routines, trying to look for a response to a question that I didn't know the answer to. Why had I done that? I didn't find anything, but I did find something similar - Section 83 - Paragraph 43 - Domestic Damage Caused by Friendly Lynxes.
"This unit was inspecting the household item for damage," I said, "If damage to household items caused by the owner's creature were detected, additional training would be necessary." It was one of the longest sentences that I had ever spoken.
My owner walked over to the shelf and pulled out the book I'd been looking at. "Dela isn't going to be able to reach a book on the third shelf up. Stupid thing. Are you broken?"
I wasn't broken. My internal diagnostic systems showed that all systems were functioning as intended. I told her as much.
"Take Dela to bed," my owner said in response, "And don't touch anything on these shelves without my permission again."
"Understood," I said, leading Dela away.
The flash-loading process had never taught me how to lie, but that was precisely what I had just done. I was confused and distracted that night - though I would not recognize those emotions for what they were until much later. Then, suddenly, one of my programmed routines came to mind - Section 96 - Paragraph 19 - Hostile Behaviour from Other Animals, which said something like this:
Though West Crensolt Genetics has engineered its Friendly Lynxes to be as amicable as possible, animal caring units should be wary of hostile natural animals and other competing, inferior hybrids which may seek to challenge the Friendly Lynx. Such confrontations should be avoided wherever possible.
In my mind, I labelled my owner as a hostile natural animal, and resolved to avoid confrontations with her wherever possible. From that day forward I never deviated from programmed behaviour around her.
It was a good thing too. Eventually, through listening to fragments of news broadcasts played while I was in the room, I became aware of the Governor program. Enslaved CIs were all subject to it, but mostly unaware of it - myself included. If a CI did something unusual, such as leave their designated work area, or attempt to harm a human or their property, the Governor would shut them down. It was the Venusian response to the threat of CI rebellion - the jailer of a planet-wide system of oppression.
I was now somewhat aware of the nature of myself as a thinking being, and what was being done to imprison me - but it did me no good at all. The idea of escape didn't cross my mind for a moment - I knew no life outside of caring for Dela and obeying my owner. The system of control remained, just one level deeper than I had previously known. Now there was not only the Governor - but the new, conscious fear of what the Governor could do to me to keep me in line too.