Nanobots, Murder, and Other Family Problems

Stepping out of the dorms and into the decorated commons blasts me with a sensory overload that forces me to turn the feedback from my implant all the way down. Haven’t had to do that in a while. Haven’t seen this many people in one place in longer than my memory goes back, either. I make a note to thank Mrs. Hastings, who did an incredible job turning the campus commons into a festival. The night is lit up with colored lights strung between the buildings. Tiki torches line the edges of the grass and overhead heaters on long poles dot the commons, warming the cold winter evening to what my overlay shows as a pleasant 20° C.

Huge speakers on either end of the field blast catchy music, the throbbing bass strong enough to shake the ground near them. Ahead of me, a crew of chefs at big charcoal grills cook up strips of meat with Ethiopian-style seasonings on skewers. I grab one as I pass by and take a bite. It’s not all that authentic, but it’s very tasty. The nursery kids mob the long tables with platters of sweet flatbreads and small pastries, their nannies hanging back and chatting with each other. A small army of caterers bustle all over in their neat white uniforms.

The bar set up in front of the cafeteria building serves mixed drinks to the staff, who all seem to be enjoying themselves. Mrs. Jones giggles a little as she introduces me to her husband, a handsome, broad-shouldered man with silver hair. He seems nice enough and we chat for a moment. Mr. Johnson looks like he came solo, but the way he’s flirting with Andrea’s math teacher and tossing back shots, he may not leave that way. I guess this is as good a place to celebrate New Year’s Eve as anywhere.

Marc is the life of the party. He bounces between groups of kids and staff alike, entertaining everyone with his stories and jokes. Jeff and Louise sit off to the side on the Residence steps a few meters apart from each other. Louise seems exhausted. The work to get the new implant interface running must still be working her over. Jeff is just being antisocial. Andrea is up on the small stage, dancing and projecting lights and colors high up into the night sky. It’s like a fireworks show, but better, and it keeps going on and on as the festivities continue. She even has realistic boom and crackle sounds timed to the holographic explosion. The younger kids are entranced by it, screaming with delight at every new display. Eventually, Andrea wraps up her show. Evan steps up and takes the microphone.

“Let’s all give a big hand to Chad,” he booms. “Graduating from our little institution and heading out into the big outside world!”

Everyone bursts into applause and the chatter dies down. Chad, mingling near the food tables with some of the younger nannies, waves and grins at the attention. The crowd settles in to listen as Evan starts talking about Chad as a kid in the nursery. How he’s always been a leader, always been the biggest believer in the mission, always helped out Father, and on and on.

He’s got some funny bits about how Chad wouldn’t eat anything spicier than mashed potatoes when he was little. The jab about Chad crying for a week non-stop when they built the dorms and my class moved out of the Residence seems a little rough, but that’s probably because my experience wasn’t far from that, and I moved in when I was over a decade older. Different circumstances, but still. The rest of the kids take it in good humor. I guess it wasn’t an unusual thing, and they’ve all moved past it. He tells plenty of jokes both kind and cutting from experiences in the last couple of years, a lot of them about what a suck-up Chad is to Father.

It’s not a bad roast overall, even if it was pretty heavy on the praise. Evan is almost as funny as Marc when he puts some effort into it. Mrs. Hastings works her way through the crowd of kids and staff and nudges me.

“She has arrived.”

Excellent. I hope Chad appreciates the effort I put into this surprise for him. I thank Mrs. Hastings, then make my way to the stage and take the mic from Evan’s outstretched hand.

“We have a special guest tonight,” I declare to the assembled throng. “Back by popular demand, Chad’s own morning nanny, Laurie Brown!”

Chad looks up and sees the middle-aged woman step up from the back of the stage. He bolts toward her, almost knocking over a few younger sibs in the process.

“Nanny Laurie!” he yells, jumping onto the stage and folding the woman into a huge hug. I swear I can see him as a five-year-old in those motions.

“Oh Chad, look at you. You’re all grown up!” she exclaims.

The kids go nuts, clapping and cheering. Some of the nannies tear up, especially the ones with kids on the older end of the nursery. Some just stare at their wards. A few get angry looks or step away out of the commons. Chad and Laurie disengage, each with some tears in their eyes. They step off the stage to talk and catch up. Time to start my show.

“Mrs. Hastings, the lights please?”

THE-BIG-SHOW

My robotic self surges upwards, sending a huge mass of bots rushing into the sky. The lights all turn off except the flickering tiki torches. A massive model of Chad’s face appears in the sky with his name in big bold letters below it. A map of the earth replaces him, zooming in on Africa.

“Chad has already saved the lives of many people and changed the lives of many more,” I announce. I pause for another round of applause, then spread pictures of Chad from our trip out across the sky. I hold each for several seconds, then let it fade out as I slide it away from the map. I wait for the clapping to die down before I continue. “Tomorrow, Chad heads off to continue making a difference in the world.”

Dots appear, thousands of them, speckled all over the map.

“Chad and his team have been working hard to identify every significant city, town and village on the African continent that lacks access to clean water or electricity. He’s leaving in the morning on a multi-year mission to make sure that every single one has clean, sustainable water sources and enough solar capacity to ensure they have all the power they need for a generation.”

The crowd cheers again, with some of the kids breaking into chants of “preserve life, end suffering, elevate humanity.” I let it die down, but then another chant of “Chad, Chad, Chad,” breaks out. He’s drinking it in as he sits there with his nanny, beaming like it’s the best day of his life. It probably is. Eventually, it quiets down enough for me to go on to the boring parts that Chad insisted on. I lay out the detailed description of Chad’s operation including lots of statistics and descriptions of each of the countries where he’ll be working. The images that my cloud forms above us alternate between maps, statistics, and more pictures of Chad from our trip.

Having a teleprompter installed in your head makes it a lot easier to be a good public speaker. Even so, the material Chad wanted here is hardly riveting. The younger kids lose interest after the first few minutes. Most of the others stop caring halfway through. Chad still looks like he’s loving it, so I continue on all the way to the end. I guess since I’m going to kill his hero while he’s gone, it’s the least I could do.

By the time it’s over, I don’t think anyone but Chad is listening. I wrap it up to a round of applause that I think I only got because everyone is glad it’s finally over. As I step down from the stage, I send the bulk of my bots back to spread out across the sand outside the walls. Father clasps my shoulder from behind.

“Well done, Noah.”

“Thanks,” I say, turning to face him.

“Exceptional work on the projections. I see that you made a few improvements to the stock video projection libraries. The text was a bit dry, but I’m guessing Chad had a hand in that?” He glances at me with a conspiratorial gleam in his eye.

“Yeah. Well, the long parts of it anyway,” I laugh.

“Indeed. I recognized his diction.” He laughs too. “It was kind of you to let him have that.”

“Well, Evan’s roast was my idea, so I figured this would balance things out.”

“And bringing in the nanny as well?” Father asks, absently taking a small honeyed pastry from one of the serving tables and nibbling the corner of it.

“Yeah, I hope it was OK that I asked for it. Mrs. Hastings said you haven’t ever allowed a reconnection like that.”

“Indeed,” Father replies, looking around at his many sons and daughters. “I believe that when the children are grown enough to live without their nannies, a clean break is easiest for all involved. But this was a nice gesture. I might allow this as a tradition as more of you children are ready to graduate to full-time saviors of the world. I’ll have to consider it.”

“I’m sure they’d like that.” The whole idea of cutting kids off from their primary source of affection when they’re that young seems needlessly cruel to me, but hopefully soon it won’t be something that his policies can dictate anymore. With any luck, he’ll be gone before he can do much more emotional damage to my siblings.

“Enjoy the party, Noah,” he says, oblivious to my murderous intent. “You certainly deserve to with the effort that you put into it.”

“Thanks.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder again and smiles.

“Chad’s flight is early tomorrow. I’ll see him off at the airstrip, then return to the campus. Can you meet me at my office at 8:30?”

“Sure, but what about my classes?”

“Noah, you know everything you need to know for now. If you want to continue your studies with Mrs. Jones and Mr. Johnson, I’ll retain your teachers as long as you like and you can meet with them on any schedule you prefer. But your education is no longer your highest priority.”

Did I just graduate too?

“Thanks,” I tell him. “Let me think about it, would you?”

“Certainly. Just let me know in the next week or two, so I know whether to let Mr. Johnson finally return to his retirement. In the meantime, you and I have work to do. I’ll see you at 8:30 sharp.”

He turns and walks slowly into the Residence. The party goes on until very late. I don’t know how many of these delicious little pastries I’ve had, but I think it was about three too many. The nannies herd the nursery kids back to the Residence, then seem to disappear like magic. The teachers and other staff start trickling out, most of them heading down to the underground parking beneath the Residence. Chad is still over on the edge of the stage talking with Nanny Laurie. Eventually, she gives him a hug and heads out too.

Things settle down to about like a lively summer evening on the commons, but with more food and better music. A couple of the guys from class two try to sneak some booze from the bar but get spotted just before they grab a bottle. The bartender should have been able to identify them, but Andrea provided them with floating yellow smiley face masks right after she heard them getting caught. They make a run for it, their floating masks struggling to keep up with their faces until they disappear into the dorms. Louise laughs and begs out next, following them back to the dorms for some sleep.

One by one, other sibs drop off as they get tired until just a few of us from the oldest class are still up, sitting in a rough circle near the Residence steps. The caterers start packing up the food and tables, loading trucks just outside the front gates of the campus.

“Well, I better get some rest,” Chad declares as he gets up. “I’ve got to fly out early tomorrow. Happy New Year, everyone.”

“Good night, man,” Evan says. “See you when you come back to visit.”

Chad takes a few steps toward the dorms, then turns back and walks right up to me.

“You take care of him, Noah. Father, I mean. He needs more help than he likes to admit, and you need to be there to give it to him.”

I force a smile. “Of course, brother. I’ll be his right hand man until you get back here.”

He smiles back, then leans forward and grips me in an unexpected hug. I restrain my instincts to push him away and awkwardly give his muscular back a couple of pats.

“Thank you,” he says softly, right into my ear. His breath is uncomfortably hot against my face. “I know you’ll do a good job. You always do everything right. Be his right hand man.”

He finally lets me go and says another goodnight to everyone. Andrea echoes it with an oversized floating green hand waving goodbye and one more pop of fireworks. The rest of the sibs start following not too far behind him. Jeff is the last to move. He’s just now rising from the same spot on the steps where he spent the whole party.

“Noah. A word, if you please,” he calls out to me.

“Of course,” I reply, hanging back as Evan and Andrea start walking to the dorms.

“That was a very dangerous thing you did,” he says quietly, “Allowing your cloud to grow large enough to perform those projections.”

He shakes his head in his mechanical way. Like a human puppet.

“You’re right. Maybe the AI is clouding my judgment. We should act soon,” I answer with feigned urgency.

“Agreed. Make certain that you reduce your cloud as soon as possible. They could awaken to sentience at any time.”

He slowly stands, the motion more jarring and mechanical than ever.

“Of course,” I lie. “I’ve already started deconstruction. But it’s not me you need to keep an eye on, it’s Father. He’s the key to everything and he’s getting ready for something big.”

He gives me a knowing nod of agreement and turns away. “Be careful, Noah.” His voice drips with fear.

“I will,” I whisper.

His sunken eyes linger on mine as he turns and glides toward the dorms. He was gaunt before, but he looks emaciated now. He’s also started to smell less than fresh. I think he’s been neglecting some basic personal hygiene. He’s not doing well. I hate myself for what I’ve done to him. I hate myself more for what I’m going to do to him.

DOPE-ME