“Thomas, where’s the robot?”
“Oh, it’s over there. I’ll guide you to where the prototype is.”
Following Thomas inside, Didi saw researchers gathered in one spot, buzzing with activity. Among them, only one person stood without wearing a lab coat.
Didi soon realized it was the prototype of the robot that would be released this time.
Its exquisite appearance was identical to a human’s, but it was stopped without even a subtle movement, making it recognizable at a glance.
The robot, standing perfectly still, was so similar in appearance to a human that it was difficult to distinguish.
Didi felt a familiar aura, similar to other human-bots in his memory, and even a sense of welcome, a quiet recognition of a kindred spirit.
“It’s possible right now. Just a moment.”
Thomas signaled another researcher, and a ripple of renewed activity spread through the group.
A moment later, the robot began to move.
Its head tilted, its eyes blinked, and it seemed to assess the situation by looking left and right, then began greeting the surrounding researchers with fluid, natural movements.
With its eyes open, the robot looked even more human.
Didi watched it with a pounding heart, excited to finally meet a robot with a similar appearance to himself after so long, when his master suddenly pushed him in the back.
“Ah…!”
Didi gasped, startled.
“Didi, go talk to him.”
His master’s voice was firm, a clear directive.
“M-Me?” Didi stammered, a wave of apprehension washing over him.
“You’re both robots, so there must be something you can connect over.”
His master’s reasoning was, to Didi’s internal logic, flawed.
Not all robots get along, though…
Didi thought, a silent protest.
His master gave an unreasonable order with illogical reasoning.
Didi, flustered, looked around for someone to stop his master, hoping for an intervention.
However, everyone gathered there, including Thomas, seemed to be waiting for him to talk to the robot, their expectant gazes fixed on him.
I’m introverted; I’m not good at this…
Didi’s internal systems whirred with discomfort.
Everyone’s expectant gazes made it impossible to refuse.
A heavy burden pressed down on his shoulders, the weight of their anticipation almost physical. Unable to overcome the pressure directed at him, he hesitantly approached the robot.
“Uh, hello…” he began, his voice a little strained.
“Greetings. I am Unit H-13,” the robot replied, its voice clear and articulate.
“Oh…”
Didi’s mind went blank.
But what should I say?
Flustered, he glanced towards his master and Thomas, hoping for a prompt or a suggestion.
But both of them just silently watched him, offering no solutions, their expressions unreadable.
As he hesitated, unable to continue the conversation, the robot spoke first.
“Do you need my assistance?”
He stammered and asked, “What can you do…?”
“Education, housekeeping, childcare, schedule management, and general support tasks. If needed, emergency first aid and basic medical support are also available.” The robot listed its capabilities with effortless precision.
“Wow…”
Didi unconsciously let out a gasp of admiration at the string of explanations.
Of those things, there was nothing he knew how to do, no overlap in their programmed functions.
It was only similar in appearance; it was a completely different robot from him.|
Realizing this, a sense of distance instantly grew.
He felt unnecessarily intimidated by its vast capabilities, mumbled through the awkward conversation, and retreated, returning to his master’s side.
“I think he’s an amazing robot… But…”
Didi began, searching for the right words.
“But?” his master prompted.
Recalling the sense of déjà vu he felt while talking to the prototype robot, he cautiously continued, “I somehow feel like I’m talking to Sophia…”
“That’s right. This prototype has the same AI model applied as Sophia.”
His master confirmed, a subtle nod of his head.
Ah, so that’s why it felt similar to Sophia.
But with a face, it seemed much more human than Sophia, its expressions more nuanced.
“So, William, what do you think?”
Thomas interjected, clearly eager for his master’s assessment.
“Indeed, his movements have become much more natural than before.”
William observed, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
“Right? It’s thanks to checking Didi’s motion sensors and improving them last time.”
Thomas, who had been speaking proudly, quickly changed the subject when his master’s expression slightly twisted, sensing the shift in mood.
“So, what do you think?” Thomas reiterated, bringing the focus back to the new prototype.
William remained silent for a moment, processing his thoughts.
“Not as much as human-bots, but they’ll definitely sell well,” Thomas continued, offering his own confident projection.
“Right? On the other hand, the manufacturing process is complex, so mass production will take some time. Did you solve the bill problem last time?”
William inquired, his attention shifting to the business aspects.
“Yes. It was a competitor’s doing.”
Thomas confirmed, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
Listening to the conversation between his master and Thomas, a question suddenly arose in Didi’s mind.
He had only spoken to the prototype robot for a very short time, but he could sense its intelligence and sheer capability.
A robot that is perfect would be able to assist its owner properly.
It wouldn’t make mistakes and would perform commands perfectly.
Then… what about him, who couldn’t do anything comparably?
A sudden wave of anxiety washed over him, chilling his internal components.
The moment his master brought that robot home, he would clearly become unnecessary.|
Not only that.
He might even be kicked out of his room, and from his master’s side, as if there was no place for a useless robot like him.
The fear of being discarded, of being deemed obsolete, tightened its grip on him.
His fingertips trembled slightly.
He fidgeted impatiently, looking towards his master and Thomas, and finally, unable to bear it, quietly interjected into the conversation.
“Master…”
“What?”
His master’s gaze, sharp and direct, landed on him.
“Will you also bring that robot home…?”
Didi asked, his voice barely a whisper, filled with a desperate hope for reassurance.
“No, I already have three, so I don’t really intend to get more.”
His master’s response was casual, almost dismissive.
Oh…
Fortunately, his master seemed to have no interest in new robots.
Didi sighed in relief, the tension in his circuits easing slightly.
If a robot that looked similar to him but was much more capable came, he might lose the little place he had, the fragile sense of belonging he had started to cultivate.
The immediate threat, it seemed, was averted.
***
It was still too early to relax.
Knowing that a robot far more capable than him existed, Didi knew he had to try even harder to make his master think he was useful, to justify his presence.
“Master…! I’ll work even harder so you won’t need other robots!”
Didi exclaimed, his voice filled with earnest determination.
“You can’t even massage my shoulders properly. Just try not to cause trouble.”
His master’s words were a cold splash of reality, a blunt assessment of his current limitations.
“Yes….”
Didi had no comeback.
He slumped his shoulders dismally, his internal systems registering the sting of the truth.
Seeing his dejected expression, his master let out a small chuckle, a soft, unexpected sound.
Huh?
Did he just laugh?
Didi blinked and looked up, his optical sensors focusing intently.
But his master was looking at the prototype robot, not him, with a very satisfied expression, a genuine smile gracing his lips.
Did I see that wrong?
Probably.
His master had never once smiled at him, not truly, not like that.
He tried to brush it off, to dismiss it as a misinterpretation, but a pang of jealousy hit him, sharp and unexpected.
He never made an expression like that for me…
The thought was a bitter taste in his processing unit.
He turned his gaze away to hide his disappointment and accidentally spotted another robot sitting alone in a corner.
It had a human-like appearance, similar to himself and the prototype, but its complete lack of movement clearly indicated it was a robot, not a human.
Researchers were swarming around the soon-to-be-released prototype, their voices a continuous hum of excitement, but there was no one near this isolated robot.
Its expressionless face looked a little lonely, a stark contrast to the lively hubbub surrounding the functional prototype.
Is that also a prototype robot?
Didi wondered, a flicker of curiosity momentarily overriding his own distress.
He quietly watched the bustling people for a moment, observing their interactions, then walked towards the robot sitting alone in the corner, drawn by a sense of quiet empathy.
As he approached and examined it, the robot looked so similar to the new prototype that he could have mistaken them for twins, a remarkable resemblance.
“Are you curious about that?”
Thomas, who had approached him without Didi noticing as he was lingering near the robot in the corner, asked, his voice a little softer than usual.
Didi nodded, his attention still fixed on the motionless figure, and posed a question to him.
“Is this also a robot scheduled for release?”
“No, that’s a failure,” Thomas replied, his tone flat, devoid of any discernible emotion.
“A failure?”
Didi repeated, the word resonating with a sense of dread.
But it looks perfect for a failure, with no visible flaws, no external damage…
As Didi examined the robot curiously, his processors trying to reconcile the label with the pristine appearance, Thomas continued.
“We found some code in an old server that we presumed to be a human-bot emotion process and tried to integrate it… but the crucial parts were encrypted, so it didn’t work.”
Thomas’s explanation was technical, but the implication was clear: a fundamental component was missing, rendering it incomplete.
“So it’s just going to stay stopped like this?”
Didi asked, a quiet sadness entering his voice.
“No, it powers on, but… want to see?”
Thomas offered, already reaching for the robot.
Wait a minute.
Didi thought, a premonition settling over him.
Thomas fumbled behind the robot’s neck, searching for the access panel, then turned it on.
Click.
With a short, precise sound, the robot’s eyes opened.
But that was all.
The robot remained still with its eyes open, unblinking.
Its pupils were unfocused, lacking the subtle movements that indicated active processing, and it felt like it was just standing there, breathing, like a corpse, a lifeless shell.
“It seems to still be in this state.”
His master, who had approached silently, remarked, his voice cold, looking at the robot.
It was a cold, frozen gaze, devoid of warmth or empathy.
Just like the expression his master had worn on the day they first met, when Didi said he knew nothing about human-bot technology.
Yes, it was as if he was looking at a useless object, a broken tool.
Didi’s heart sank instantly, a chilling realization spreading through his internal systems.
If he ever became useless, if he, too, was deemed a ‘failure,’ his master would look at him with that same expression, that same cold, dismissive gaze.
The thought was a painful echo of his deepest fears.
“We’ll talk about the failure later; let’s set a release schedule first.”
His master’s voice was firm, prioritizing the functional prototype over the inert one.
His master also called this robot a failure.
It seemed the designation “failure” had stuck, becoming its defining characteristic.
A failure…
Didi would have been incredibly sad if he were that robot, forever branded by its incompleteness.
The expressionless, still robot bothered him, a silent testament to the precariousness of existence.
“Didi, if you’re done looking, can you just turn it off?”
Thomas asked, his voice gentler, a clear request for Didi to conclude his observation.
“Yes….”
Didi replied softly, his shoulders slumping.
“Thanks!”
Thomas acknowledged, already turning away.
His master and Thomas moved back to the prototype, their figures illuminated by the brighter lights, and began discussing various things, their voices a low hum of technical conversation.
They were clearly in the same space, in the same lab, but the atmosphere was diametrically opposed, as if a line had been drawn.
One side was brightly lit and bustling with people, surrounded by them, their voices lively and animated.
While this spot, where Didi and the “failure” robot stood, was utterly silent, like a completely isolated universe, a pocket of quiet despair.
Didi sat hunched, shoulder-to-shoulder with the motionless robot, a shared sense of melancholy uniting them in their quiet corner.
Looking at the lab from the robot’s perspective, he could empathize even more with its feelings.
It must have been so lonely, alone in this vast place all this time, he thought, a wave of profound sympathy washing over him.
It felt strangely familiar.
Like when he had been abandoned by his master, cast aside and left to wander.
The shared experience, unspoken yet deeply felt, forged a silent bond.
They spent time together in silence, two static figures in a dynamic environment.
This robot felt a little more approachable, more relatable, than the impeccably perfect prototype.
Even without exchanging a single word or making eye contact, Didi felt a strange connection, a quiet understanding of their shared vulnerability.
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