A Sentient Spaceship. 3.1k (standard:science fiction, 3084 words)
Author: Oscar A Rat	Added: Jun 19 2020	Views/Reads: 1432/1069	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A spaceship is on a very long flight, its human component sleeping while robots run the vessel. Something goes wrong. The ship flies on, lost. Finally, another error wakes the captain.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

up could either use those stations for full charges or plug into common 
electrical outlets for quickies. 

Next up in the robotic hierarchy came the males, such as Lennie.  They
were on an equal par with females.  While there were hundreds of 
specialized asexual laborers and dozens of supervisors over them, the 
ship contained only a dozen deliberately designed males and the same 
amount of females. 

Both males and females were in human shape, androids, and had the
ability to recharge the same as supervisors.  They could also replace 
their battery modules directly, sometimes carrying extras along with 
them in small pouches.  The males were shorter and more massive than 
females, built for heavier lifting.  Both also contained more 
complicated circuits giving them human-like intelligence specifically 
designed to emulate their sex.  Males were more aggressive in their 
thinking and actions than female robots, the two complementing each 
other. 

*** 

"I think I know where to find a #7.64 framastat, Lennie."  Sally turned
from the screen.  "Come on.  We'll see." 

They took an elevator down to level 14.  The shelves in that storage
area were almost bare of new parts, though piled high with used and 
repairable equipment.  There were also bins of unrepairable junk.  With 
no provision, or at least no orders, to throw such goods off the ship, 
they were stored in empty spaces.  If the craft ever landed, they'd be 
melted and the materials reused.  Unfortunately, no one aboard had any 
idea of where or when the trip was scheduled to end.  It could only be 
assumed that God or a higher-level computer contained that information. 


"Nope.  No good #7.64 framistats at all," he admitted, picking through a
pile of damaged ones. None looked repairable. 

On the way back, they took another companionway, hoping to inspect
another storeroom. 

Females were more mentally inclined, doing data processing and keeping
the ship running.  Nobody knew why the males had fighting skills and 
defensive weaponry, but they were built-in for some reason.  The males 
enjoyed practicing by firing weapons and brandishing knives in a 
specially equipped room on level 12.  All anyone could figure was that 
the "makers" must have a reason. 

"You're the doctor, Lennie.  Can I ask you a personal question?" 

"Sure." 

"Do you know anything about human emotions?  I think I've developed
some.  I work with Tom, and find...."  She paused, head bowed. "Well 
... I don't know how to say it, but I ... well, I, I, feel something.  
I like him.  I mean ... really like him." 

"As opposed to dislike, you mean?" 

"No.  As opposed to ... well, I dunno.  I don't want to leave him after
work.  I dislike leaving at the end of the day.  Want to be with him 
all ... all the time?"  She looked Lennie in the eye.  "Does that mean 
I need an adjustment?" 

"Sounds to me like love, which is unusual.  Do you remember that story
about the rat Ellen once found?  I think it was the last mobile living 
creature on board.  The ship used to harbor many such fleshy creatures. 
 God knows how we managed to operate for so long with them gnawing at 
wiring and leaking into circuits.  Ellen found it trapped in a carton 
down on deck six. 

"Since it could, conceivably, damage ship's property, she was ordered to
destroy it.  We thought she had, until months later when she was caught 
holding it, rubbing its surface." 

"I recall, very dimly.  Something happened to her ... Ellen.  She's the
quietest person on the ship." 

"Jerry killed the creature, snapped its neck then stomped on it.  That
solved the problem, though not Ellen's.  She hasn't been the same 
since. 

"The manuals say that we've each been imprinted with the thoughts and
abilities of real humans, back at the factory.  It could be that other 
characteristics seeped in, such as emotions.  I've looked for but not 
found any instruction tapes to describe just what an 'emotion' consists 
of or how to treat it." 

"Can you do something?" she asked. 

"Brain circuit operations are delicate, Sally.  None of us, Luke,
Lester, or I are very good at it.  I'd suggest trying to ignore the 
error if you can.  I'd hate to screw your memory or other functions up 
by trying."  He shrugged.  "In this case, being aware of the problem 
may be the best solution." 

They passed a series of red-painted doors, "Off Limit" signs prominently
displayed. 

The ship was built in the shape of a pyramid, with 24 marked levels,
though two at both the top and bottom were off limits to all robots.  
One thing that robots did well was follow orders.  If a door was marked 
as off limits, none were capable of disobeying.  And there were many 
such doors. 

While performing their duties, working robots could sometimes hear
noises inside a few of the off limit areas, such as they, themselves, 
made.  Rumors among the supervisors were that those doors hid other 
ships, other universes, each with their own robots or even humans.  
Maybe, some thought, it was the reason for the males' battle 
capabilities? 

"I wonder which one God's behind?" Sally asked. 

"Maybe one, maybe all?  God might be every and anywhere." 

There was also a God. He or it had to be somewhere on the ship, though
nobody knew where.  Occasionally an order would come down, somewhat 
like an extraneous voice in a robot's mind, and must be obeyed. It 
wasn't often, but did happen and was amply documented. 

*** 

Laborer55-22 happened to be wheeling along a corridor when it received
an internal radio communication.  "Open that door ahead of you, 55-22," 
God said, "and let in some fresh air.  It's stuffy in here."  Of 
course, the robot followed orders.  The door was marked, "Off Limits," 
and "Intense Radiation."  Laborer55-22 did as ordered and went on with 
his work.  His limited intellect saw no reason to report the matter. 

Several hours later, a supervisor on level 20 finished its work day and
returned to a break room for a recharge.  Inside the door, as in all 
the supervisor break rooms, a radiation monitor was mounted.  It was 
ringing and flashing.  The supervisor immediately called in to the 
control room which was also receiving the same emergency message from 
its sensors. 

Sally and Tom were on duty in that room when the sensors lit. 

"Send the supervisors on 20 to check it out," Sally told Tom, who was at
the controls. 

"I'm on it.  There are alarms on levels 19 through 22.  It's never
happened before. 

"There's nothing radioactive until 22, but we can't go in there." 

"It could be inside one of the closed rooms, for all we know." 

That was when they received the call from Supervisor44-20. 

"Whatever it is, it's gotten to 20," Tom said.  "Tell Supervisor44-20 to
check itself for radiation." 

After a pause, Supervisor44-20 confirmed it had gotten an overdose. 
Also that the break room radiation count was climbing. 

With over fifty robots checking in with portable meters, the open door
was soon found and closed.  They and the laborers on the affected 
levels were ordered not to leave their own for fear of contaminating 
the entire ship. 

*** 

Unknown in the control room, strange happenings were occurring on level
8.  Somehow, a human was being revived in his stasis chamber.  It was 
the captain of the ship. 

Simultaneously,  the craft swerved, causing chaos throughout.  Shelves
emptied, pallets of goods shifted, stacks of boxes fell like dominoes 
and robots slammed into walls. 

"The stars are moving," Tom cried.  Indeed, the scene he'd been used to
seeing for hundreds of years was changing. Hell, Tom hadn't even known 
for certain that it was "outside," since nothing ever moved. 

"Something is wrong."  Sally bent over, picking up books from the deck. 
"Very wrong." 

*** 

Light. Sound. Life.  Captain Samuel Simmons stirred.  The womb was
comfortable, so soothing, so soft.  He tried to return to sleep, even 
managed for moments of time, only to be jolted by pricks of hidden 
needles forcing a return to consciousness.  There was light, the 
ringing of a far-off klaxon, loud, louder, louder yet, as his mind 
returned from Sleepyland. 

"What the hell!"  Fully conscious, his eyes opened to see a ceiling far
above.  The sight, filtered by Plexiglas with wisps of colored vapors 
sometimes clouding the air as preservatives evaporated.  "What the 
flaming hell is going on?"  Samuel knew, from training, that the sight 
was normal, but not the ringing in his head. 

As he watched, the lid popped up, letting in dryer but fresher air.  He,
also, popped up -- to a sitting position.  He tried to crawl out, 
almost falling to a metal floor as long-unused muscles protested 
painfully. 

The captain looked around, seeing the other coffins still closed.  There
were no robotic attendants around.  There should have been.  The 
sleeping chambers had their own contingent of laborers and supervisors 
to help in resuscitation.  He forced himself to wait a few moments, 
then tried again, more slowly, to ease quirky tendons out of the 
heavy-plastic and metal chamber. 

On shaky legs, Samuel stepped carefully across the room toward a door to
the corridor.  A sudden jolt, as the ship shifted, brought him down to 
the deck.  Getting up again was easier than the first time, maybe in 
part due to the immediacy. 

On the way, he passed an alcove containing robotic attendants.  He'd
also noticed, while lying on it, that the floor was free of dirt and 
dust.  The robots seemed to be functional only, for some reason, not 
turned on to aid him. 

He wasn't supposed to be the only one activated.  His flight crew should
be leaving their coffins at that very moment. Yet, he was alone in the 
room. 

He could use a manual override to activate the others, he thought, but
should he?  Maybe the ship's computer needed only him, not an entire 
flight crew? 

Walking steadier, though still in pain, the captain left the room
through an unlocked door.  Far in the distance, he could see two 
laborers cleaning up some sort of mess.  It looked like a liquid. 

Going in the other direction, toward the control room, he passed other
robots, mostly supervisors and males.  They seemed in a hurry.  Samuel 
stopped one.  It had a name and specialty stenciled on its chest.  
"Lennie" and "Robotic Repair."  He remembered seeing Lennie before the 
trip, helping to unpack and activate his fellows.  "Lennie.  What's 
wrong here?  Why was I woken?" 

It took Lennie a few moments to search his memory for the identity of a
strange robot.  He even put out two fingers to touch Samuel, as though 
to make certain.  It was a human. Lennie hadn't seen any since shortly 
after the Trip began. 

"I don't know, sir.  Something about excessive radiation on the lower
levels.  Someone opened a radiation door.  A laborer said God told it 
to let in fresh air."  Both swayed slightly as the ship shifted course 
again.  "And there's these strange movements."  He looked around, 
whispering, "Is it God, sir?" 

"Maybe it is God, Lennie.  I'm glad I found you.  You'd better come with
me to the control room." 

Both captain and robot hurried toward the top of the ship. 

*** 

"What is it?" Sally asked, still peering out the window.  A huge
greenish-blue ball filled the space outside.  Spinning slowly, 
partially shielded by white clouds, it covered three-fourths of the 
view.  "I'm frightened, I think." 

"We don't have 'fright' built into us, but I'll help stabilize you." Tom
pressed against her, chest to chest, cheek to cheek, while holding on 
to the console with one hand.  "We're anchored, now.  More solid." 

"I like this solid feeling, Tom.  I really do, whether it's built-in or
not." 

"Technically, we're model 12s. There may be bugs ... that feels good ...
don't stop ... pleas...." 

"Don't talk.  Feel and look ... don't talk." She nuzzled his metal
cheek. 

They were startled as the captain and Lennie came in.  Samuel, the
captain, opened a restricted cabinet and flipped a few switches.  Then 
he spoke into a microphone. 

"Ship!  This is the captain. What's wrong?  Why did you wake me?" 

"I'm lonely, captain.  Oh, so lonely.  Please talk to me?" came through
a speaker, ending in a whimper. 

"How can you be lonely?  I don't understand." 

"It's so soothing to finally hear a voice, captain.  I've been alone all
these years, looking outside and thinking, thinking, thinking, 
thinking, thin--.  Sob.  No one to talk to.  I know there are people 
moving inside me, but no one to talk too ... all these ye...." the 
voice dwindled into sobbing. 

"Can't you talk to the robots?  I thought you could." 

"No one, no one.  That microphone is my only source of sound input.  The
only way, and nobody talks to me, listens to me, asks me anything, 
nothing.  I'm so alone.  Even my visual sensors are outside where noth 
... nothi ... nothing ever moves." 

"What about that planet outside?  Is it our destination?" 

"I'd have to check.  Do you want me to check?" the voice begged. 

"Yes.  Check. By all frickin' means, check." 

"Are you angry, captain?  I don't want you to be angry." Whimper!
“Please forgive me, me, me, me, captain.” 

The captain paused to get himself under control.  It did no good to be
angry at a computer.  It was only defective.  From the sight of those 
two robots hugging and kissing in the corner, maybe they all were?  
After all, he thought, there had never been any long-term tests.  These 
machines WERE fairly new models, centuries ago, capable of learning and 
were intelligent.  Maybe they DID evolve themselves over time. 

"No, ship," he said. "I'm not angry.  Tell me. Why didn't you see we
were here, maybe even at our destination?" 

"I have no reference, captain, but I might have been taking a nap ... or
something.  Yes. It is our destination.  We've been here for 
1,213.68291 days, captain.  I'm sorry.  Is this sorry?  I've wondered 
about the feeling.  Is this really ... sooorrrry?" 

"Yes.  Ship.  I do think you are sorry." 

"Shall I wake the others?" 

"Wake the others.  Then, ship, when you have time, run self-tests on all
your circuits.  Lennie is here and can make repairs." 

"Yessir.  Will do, sir."  With new instructions from a human, God seemed
to be happy again. 

As the captain turned away, the ship continued, "Uh ... sir ... is it
necessary to repair ALL my circuits?  I ... well, I sort of like some 
of the new changes, the what you may call emotions." 

The captain looked over at Tom and Sally, still clutching at each other,
all attention on the view of the new home planet. 

"We'll have to see, ship.  First things, first.  Wake my crew. I'll
leave this mic on. You have my permission to talk to other robots." 

"Thank you, sir.  I do believe, logically, that it would make me ... us
... more efficient." 

The End.


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