automated figurine. “It was a solid hunk of wood earlier today!”
August picked up the surprisingly heavy robot and showed her the changes he had made and explained, “Well, I cut it. I made movable joints by adding these bolts and hinges at the shoulders, elbows, wrists, knees, etc. Then I, uhh, used string.”
“String? Did you say string, sweets?” she asked with a touch of doubt in her voice.
“Yeah, well it’s not like yarn or nothin’. It’s the same fiber coating we use to cover certain types of wires. It’s real tough, it can’t be cut without a plasma torch, but it moves like string. I used it to make the little guy walk and move his arms by runnin’ them through this small engine I came up with.”
“So it’s kind of like a puppet?” she asked with a grin.
“Not really,” he answered, too caught up to notice she was just messing around. “It’s still an automaton. It has a few different chips that control its vision and movement.”
“Can it talk, sweets?” she asked, serious this time.
“Oh, yeah. It can,” August said, even more excited. “I installed an entire voice system with speakers. Little ones, of course.”
Samantha took the automaton from his hands and turned it over, examining all the work he had put into modifying her creation. She was impressed. It was beautiful. So much more so than the big tin cans that people paraded through town.
“If they all looked like this, sweets, I wouldn’t mind them half as much. And if they didn’t have people’s memories and voices inside of them, I would like them just as much as I do this one,” she said with a smile, and hugged it close, adding, “Thank you, August. It’s very nice. It’ll be fun to watch it walk around the house, and maybe help take my mind off of… Tara.”
Damn. He had forgotten about the BrainSave. August still didn’t know if it had Tara’s memories in it or not.
“Listen, Sam,” he began,. “There is a chance that Tara activated the BrainSave in her automaton before she died in the fire. If so, it will have her memories and stories, and voice, and you could talk to it… talk to her.”
The look on her face went cold immediately, and Samantha said, “Sweets, you know how I feel about those damned robots. It’s unnatural. It ain’t right to do that to people.”
“Sam, love,” August said, his voice pleading, “if she activated the BrainSave, then it was her choice. It would be what she wanted. And then you would have the chance to… say goodbye.”
Samantha had not fully processed the loss of her best friend until that very moment; when August said, “…Say goodbye.” Sam realized that she hadn’t said goodbye to Tara. The last thing she said had ever told her best friend was, “Don’t forget to clean up the stove when you finish. See you tomorrow.”
That wasn’t a goodbye. That was instruction. It was cold and loveless. She had only really ever lost two people in her life.: Cheryl and John. Cheryl had been like a mother to her for years, and when she died from the Countdown, Samantha had been there to say goodbye.
John had been Cheryl’s husband, and Samantha hadn’t known him that well but had heard stories about him from Cheryl. Samantha had felt a friendly connection to John at their first meeting that only blossomed into a loving admiration right up to his death. And she had got to say goodbye to him, too.
Tara, who was basically her big sister, was gone. She had died in a fire at their diner. Samantha had not been able to say goodbye to the woman who was the Maid of Honor at her wedding. The only person in this world, other than August, who truly cared about Sam. She had not been able to say goodbye.
Upon realizing this, Samantha crumbled into a ball on the floor and cried into the carpet. The loss she felt at that moment was equal to or greater than any she had ever felt in her entire life. Forget the diner; Samantha had her memories. Forget the antique cooking
August picked up the surprisingly heavy robot and showed her the changes he had made and explained, “Well, I cut it. I made movable joints by adding these bolts and hinges at the shoulders, elbows, wrists, knees, etc. Then I, uhh, used string.”
“String? Did you say string, sweets?” she asked with a touch of doubt in her voice.
“Yeah, well it’s not like yarn or nothin’. It’s the same fiber coating we use to cover certain types of wires. It’s real tough, it can’t be cut without a plasma torch, but it moves like string. I used it to make the little guy walk and move his arms by runnin’ them through this small engine I came up with.”
“So it’s kind of like a puppet?” she asked with a grin.
“Not really,” he answered, too caught up to notice she was just messing around. “It’s still an automaton. It has a few different chips that control its vision and movement.”
“Can it talk, sweets?” she asked, serious this time.
“Oh, yeah. It can,” August said, even more excited. “I installed an entire voice system with speakers. Little ones, of course.”
Samantha took the automaton from his hands and turned it over, examining all the work he had put into modifying her creation. She was impressed. It was beautiful. So much more so than the big tin cans that people paraded through town.
“If they all looked like this, sweets, I wouldn’t mind them half as much. And if they didn’t have people’s memories and voices inside of them, I would like them just as much as I do this one,” she said with a smile, and hugged it close, adding, “Thank you, August. It’s very nice. It’ll be fun to watch it walk around the house, and maybe help take my mind off of… Tara.”
Damn. He had forgotten about the BrainSave. August still didn’t know if it had Tara’s memories in it or not.
“Listen, Sam,” he began,. “There is a chance that Tara activated the BrainSave in her automaton before she died in the fire. If so, it will have her memories and stories, and voice, and you could talk to it… talk to her.”
The look on her face went cold immediately, and Samantha said, “Sweets, you know how I feel about those damned robots. It’s unnatural. It ain’t right to do that to people.”
“Sam, love,” August said, his voice pleading, “if she activated the BrainSave, then it was her choice. It would be what she wanted. And then you would have the chance to… say goodbye.”
Samantha had not fully processed the loss of her best friend until that very moment; when August said, “…Say goodbye.” Sam realized that she hadn’t said goodbye to Tara. The last thing she said had ever told her best friend was, “Don’t forget to clean up the stove when you finish. See you tomorrow.”
That wasn’t a goodbye. That was instruction. It was cold and loveless. She had only really ever lost two people in her life.: Cheryl and John. Cheryl had been like a mother to her for years, and when she died from the Countdown, Samantha had been there to say goodbye.
John had been Cheryl’s husband, and Samantha hadn’t known him that well but had heard stories about him from Cheryl. Samantha had felt a friendly connection to John at their first meeting that only blossomed into a loving admiration right up to his death. And she had got to say goodbye to him, too.
Tara, who was basically her big sister, was gone. She had died in a fire at their diner. Samantha had not been able to say goodbye to the woman who was the Maid of Honor at her wedding. The only person in this world, other than August, who truly cared about Sam. She had not been able to say goodbye.
Upon realizing this, Samantha crumbled into a ball on the floor and cried into the carpet. The loss she felt at that moment was equal to or greater than any she had ever felt in her entire life. Forget the diner; Samantha had her memories. Forget the antique cooking
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