1.1 - DROIDS (CONTINUED)

In Science Fiction

Frequently showcased in such works, droids are used to assist humans in tasks, varying from mundane day-to-day work to larger mechanical ones. They are not capable of human thought.”

Now, Fons, this is where you separate from “just another droid”. Conscious thought is a blessing. By all the common metrics, you are alive. Use this wisely.

In terms of your model specifications:

Biological Age: 17

Height: 180 centimeters

Physical Disposition: Crimson eyes, Albino features in hair and face

Diagnostic Range: 8 Years per diagnostic

Proof Mechanism: Draw two small circles (clockwise) over where the human heart would be. After processes, draw two more circles (anticlockwise). (10 second time frame to fully reveal/close chamber).

Your model, a NELO-572, is a diagnostic droid. This means you will never “die” in the traditional sense of the word. Instead, every 5 years you must have a “diagnostic”. This is where your machinery is checked and optimised for use. (Note: As you never die, you never age greater than your biological age)

Major Differences between you and a “Normal Human being”

You are a Droid You do not die You do not need to eat You do not age You require diagnostic maintenance

(In reference to the third point, due to being a droid and having diagnostics, you do not need to eat as humans do to survive. While you are capable of temporary food consumption, a diet like that of a human would not be beneficiary to your systems. In fact, you would be advised to drink at least a litre of lubricant per week. This will ensure smooth operations.)

So overall, you aren’t very different at all. Only in the places you would expect, being a droid.

Important note: Oftentimes, being a droid comes with the stigma that you are inferior. This is largely due to the portrayal of droids in science fiction. When introducing yourself to someone, you would be advised against leading with, “I am a droid”. Instead, “I’m Fons (insert detail about your life)”, would be a better option (For more information on Greetings, you would be advised to navigate to part 4.5 - basic integration).

As you are capable of conscious thought, do not categorise yourself with Droids of the past. You are Fons.

The soft whir of machinery hummed gently. Over the area Fons drew over, skin started to melt away, like ice into water.

“Hmm, doesn’t look like anything’s happening.”

“I’ll take my coat off so we can see the inside”

Taking his coat off revealed a patch of skin. Well, not exactly skin. Above his chest, the skin had fully disappeared. Inside lay a chamber of sorts, where his heart was meant to be. It was as empty as a desert cavern.

“What the-”, Silas gave him a startled gaze.

“What are you?”

“I am Fons.”

“Are you an alien or something? Are you not telling me something? Know that I’m armed and prepared. You should see the people I deal with.”. His voice was slowly rising.

“I am a droid...” Pointing to an excerpt from 2.1, Fons recited, “I am a droid capable of conscious thought (...) By all the common metrics, I am alive.”

Deep breathes, deep breathes, Silas muttered to himself.

“How do I trust you? Because I’m trying really hard right now and it isn’t easy.”. Fons could feel Silas’ gaze glued to the gap in his chest. He quickly drew two small circles in the opposite direction, his “skin”, starting to reform over it. Pulling his overcoat back on, the gap was covered again.

“Because I really know nothing”. And that was true.

Another long pause. Silas’ sharp scrutiny of Fons was, oddly, every bit as fearful as it was enticed. It was like a father admiring his child’s birth. Fons closed the book shut and let it lay on the velvet carpet. A warm fuchsia wafted in from the window, the sun setting ever so slowly on the two sitting in silence.

Di-di-di-di-DING!

“That’s the microwave. We continue this at dinner, barring you actually eat food”. Silas slowly got up and roamed towards a small metallic box the size of a toaster. Fons elected not to tell Silas that eating food was in fact unnecessary for him.

Fons was beginning to realise that, for an apartment this small, clearly an inch hadn’t been wasted. Silas presented two bowls, steaming hot. They both contained some sort of foreign mush.

“It’s rolosk. Here in Ab Ovo, it’s basically the only thing I can feasibly afford to eat most days of the week.” Fons took a spoon. It was tart and creamy, coating the insides of his mouth. “Now, while I am partially terrified, I still want to understand the being in front of me.”, Silas said. “What else did that book tell you?”

“In terms of my specifications, it says I am a Nelo - 572. Aside from details on my machinery, it has yet to explain what I am doing here. Perhaps it will say in the 2.3 - Purpose.”.

“I know I said that I didn’t like interfering in others’ affairs, but I think this is warranted, given the circumstances. May I? I’ll just do a very surface level browse”. Silas motioned to the manual in Fons’ lap.

“...Sure”

Flipping through the book, Silas’ eyes widened at certain parts. Reading 2.1, he mouthed the word, droid, slowly. Basic integration...Education…

“Damn, this book is kinda stacked. It really is a manual”.

“Does that mean I’m okay?”

“Well, okay enough that I wouldn’t report this to the police.”

Fons exhaled a sigh of relief. That sounded good.

“So far, from this manual thing I’ve gleaned that the author would like you to learn how to live. How to exist in this world. And based on the state you were in a few hours ago, I think you have a lot of learning to do. If I could, I would be happy to let you crash here for a day or two before stabilising. But as you can see…”, signalling at the single bed, “...there’s not much space. If you would like to sleep on the carpet, that’s fine by me though. Just make sure you read whatever that manual is. It seems like the author knew a thing or two about life.”

“Are you sure? You’re trusting me to sleep here?”

“Dude, the more I think about it, the clearer it is: You’re a blank canvas. It doesn’t seem like you knew you were a droid until you read the manual. I’ll still keep my guard up, of course. If anything, you should question if you can trust me or not”. Silas took a spoonful of the rolosk. “Ahhh! Tastes like life…”.

Fons mulled over Silas’ point. How could he trust Silas? Well, who else would there have been to trust? He didn’t really have another option.

“If you could let me stay the night, I would be truly grateful.”