(Photo by Marcus Aurelius)

Something was wrong. Well, a lot of things had already gone wrong, but there was something else going wrong right now. The trouble was, no one could quite say what that something really was. The Thesis had been struck by a small meteor, undetected until it was too late. Sectors 12-15 suffered the worst of the damage and everyone in those sectors at the time of the incident had died. Sectors 16 and 17 were also damaged but those breaches had been small enough that the people were able to seal the breach before they all suffocated. The next couple of days aboard the Thesis had been spent in managed turmoil as the injured were treated, damage was assessed, and repair crews were organized.

The only upside to the incident was that the affected sectors were all commercial and recreational. Although popular to visit, the crew and passengers spent most of their time in the work and living sectors. If the meteor had struck those sectors, the loss of life would have been significantly higher.

Days, weeks, and now almost a month had passed since the incident and still the Thesis hadn’t recovered. The repairs were going slowly, more slowly than most aboard the Thesis expected. Of course, most people on the colony ship weren’t engineers. Most of them were just people. Ordinary people. Selected from across all walks of life since colony ships with diverse crews and passengers had a higher success rate than mono-cultured ones. Differences in viewpoints led to innovation. It also led to disagreements. Who could blame them? They’d lost loved ones. The illusion of safety in space was gone and more than a few individuals were now being held in containment because of how they’d reacted to the news of what had happened. Of what was still happening.

Matiew lay in his bed, knowing he should be getting dressed but couldn’t quite build up the motivation. Not yet. Before the incident, his job was just a job. Most days he got to stare out the windows, looking at the stars from a perspective that few other humans had ever seen or would ever see. Now it was non-stop crisis management from the moment he arrived until the moment he got back home.

“That stupid robot,” Matiew whispered to himself. “Stupid robotics designers,” he corrected himself. The robot was, after all, only doing what its programming dictated. It wasn’t as though the robot was self-aware and could choose its actions in the same way a person could. “Who thought giving such advanced creativity protocols to a robot in a salon was a good idea?”

A light beside his bed began to brighten and then fade before brightening again. That was his five minute warning to get out of bed. If he lingered any longer than that then he wouldn’t have time to get ready for the day and be to work on time.

“Come on,” he muttered, shifting his weight but still not committing fully to leaving the comfortable, warm space where no one bothered him, no one shouted at him, no one cried to him about what that robot was doing and why he hadn’t put a stop to it yet. “Come on,” he repeated and this time he meant it.

Matiew pushed back the blankets and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He pivoted, bracing himself with his left hand while his right grabbed his legs and swung them around until they dangled over the side of the bed. His wheelchair, still where he had left it the night before at his bedside, was already positioned for him to transition over to. In a fluid motion, with one hand on the wheelchair and the other on the bed, he moved himself out of bed and into the chair. He took a moment to situate his legs and then set out to begin his day.

Some people have specific morning routines. For most it’s something like use the restroom, take a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, and so on. Matiew usually did all of those things too, but no one observing him would accuse him of following a routine. This morning, in fact, he started his day by searing a steak, frying some shrimp, and reheating a half eaten bowl of mashed potatoes. The time it took him to prepare and eat his breakfast meant he didn’t have time for much else so he dressed hastily and then hurried out the door. He’d duck into one of the public restrooms along the way to work. As for not getting a shower, his hair was well enough behaved that no one would notice much and unless anyone got really close to him, they wouldn’t smell anything amiss either. Most people could get away with only bathing every other day if they wore fresh clothing.

The public spaces on the Thesis were open and spacious. Earlier attempts at sending out colony ships found out quickly that people needed to have that openness otherwise the long term confinement eroded the passengers moral. Greenery was important too, hence the large planters, not to mention the sectors that were designed entirely to mimic forests, grasslands, and farms. The farms were dual purpose, since they provided food as well, but everyone needed to get away from time to time and go walking through the nature sectors.

Matiew didn’t visit them very often. While the corridors, atrium, and most other parts of the Thesis had smooth, even floors, the nature sectors were, well, more natural and nature preferred hills and soft dirt. Wheelchairs such as the one Matiew used were not built for those sorts of terrain. Sure, he had other wheels he could swap out for that had wider treads to better handle the more difficult ground, but growing up he’d found most of those natural places to be more trouble than they were worth. He’d spend almost all of his time looking down, watching the path to make sure he didn’t encounter an unexpected slope or tree root that could lead to him toppling over or just getting stuck. A lot of trails were also just too narrow for him and his chair, even on the Thesis. The smooth floors of the rest of the Thesis, however, were a pure joy to move around on. He could give his wheels a couple of good turns and then glide forever it seemed.

The commute to work, short though it was, used to be one of his favorite parts of the day as he sped passed others walking through the atrium. Sometimes he’d see a familiar face and slow down to chat, or kids would race along side on their way to school. That was before the incident. Now, everyone knew who he was and what his job was, and his wheelchair made him stand out in the crowd.

“Hey!” the first angry voice of the day called out, not quite shouting, “You dealt with that crazy robot yet?”

“You’ll need to check with the night shift,” Matiew replied in an even voice, though he didn’t slow down. “I’m the day shift.”

The speaker didn’t respond, likely because Matiew was too far away now to be seen through the crowd. Only a few seconds passed before the next person confronted him, this time in the form of a short teenager. He wore the school uniform all students were required to wear but his face was familiar to Matiew.

“D’you find my aunt?” he asked, speed walking to keep up with Matiew.

This time, Matiew took the time to think. Lots of people had put in requests to find their deceased family and friends, especially after the reports about the rogue robot were leaked. No one wanted their loved ones to be…well, desecrated was probably too strong of a word for what the BaBS-Y was doing, but all the same it was upsetting to find out some robot was basically playing dolls with the dead.

The young man did this most mornings, coming to check to see if his aunt had been found. Pictures were provided, and the Thesis could generally track people based on where they were spending money, but the damage to the Thesis had not been limited to the hull and only now were the internal sensors being brought back online.

“We’ve identified everyone who was on sector twelve,” Matiew told him. “We’ve notified all of the related parties so if you haven’t heard from our office then she’s on one of the other sectors.

The teen nodded and slowed back down to a regular walk. That was what most people wanted to know: were they on sector 12 when the meteor struck. For those people that the answer to that question was yes, it meant that BaBS-Y had likely spent a fair amount of time ‘modifying’ their hair before Matiew and the others had been able to chase the robot away from the salon. It also meant that the deceased had already been gathered and then set adrift into space. Normally, the dead aboard the Thesis were processed, more or less into compost. The colony ship was a closed system, after all, so losing any significant amount of bio-matter was to be avoided. The situation with BaBS-Y had warranted the deviation from the standard procedures.

A few more people accosted Matiew during his commute but overall it wasn’t the worst morning he’d had. It was actually far better than he was expecting. Maybe it was because word was spreading that he’d managed to break one of the robots arms? That tiny victory had earned him a nice bonus at work and a round of cheers and applause. Unfortunately, he still knew this wasn’t over. That robot would be thinking up some new solution. It was already threatening the system he’d devised to keep the three janitor robots operational. How long would it be before BaBS-Y figured out a way to stop CaSS from recharging? At least BaBS-Y was slowed down by having to cart its batteries around in that hollowed out CaSS. Matiew didn’t want to even think about what that robot could do if it wasn’t so encumbered. Unfortunately, he didn’t get his wish.

“Matiew!” a familiar and gravelly voice shouted the moment Matiew rolled into the Robotics Control Center. Unlike many of the voices Matiew tended to hear shouting at him, there wasn’t any anger to this voice, only concern. Min, Matiew’s supervisor, stood in the doorway of her office and beckoned him with a wave.

“What’s happened now?” Matiew asked as he turned, steering himself over to office instead of his own.

“Get in here and take a look,” Min, said, closing the door behind Matiew the moment he was inside her office. “We managed to get one of the WaCS to clean the camera lenses in the east atrium without BaBS-Y noticing.”

That was news. The robot had been pretty quick to notice any time they cleaned any of the cameras but it seemed BaBS-Y had stopped checking on them. But why had it stopped? Robots didn’t forget. They just changed priorities. Regardless of the reason, Min was turning her computer screen to face Matiew.

He studied the short video clip, playing on repeat, and let out a slow whistle.

“Two steps forward and one step back,” he said.

“I’m not even that optimistic,” Min replied. “That robot should have deactivated itself. We’ve forced it out of the salon, taken away its clients, now broken off one of its arms,” she counted off each one on her fingers. “Any one of those should have triggered its deactivation protocols but…

She trailed off, gesturing helplessly at the clip. BaBS-Y, wearing a newly sewn backpack to carry its batteries, walked across the screen.

“It made that last night?” Matiew asked.

“Apparently,” Min nodded.

“Anything else?”

Min shook her head. “Not that we’ve been able to see.”

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, both of them studying the clip.

“How did it know how to make that?” Matiew finally asked.

“It downloaded a bunch of information on wig-making before we got involved,” Min shrugged. “It could have extrapolated from that.”

Matiew didn’t think that likely. Sure, this robot had proven to be quite inventive but it still functioned within certain limitations that were common to robots. They could modify things, certainly, but it was too big of a jump to go from wigs to tailored backpacks.

“Could you call up the different plans the Thesis has for backpacks?” he asked.

Min frowned but did as he asked, pivoting her screen back towards herself while she typed. A moment later she nodded and turned the screen back to show Matiew.

“There’s six designs,” she indicated.

“And that one,” Matiew pointed and Min looked at it again, her eyebrows rising, “looks a lot like the one our friend down on sector twelve just put together.”

Min didn’t look as convinced but she did compare the two images side by side.

“Could be coincidence?”

Matiew shook his head. “This is a robot, not a person. They don’t invent things, not this suddenly. Have the people down in Data Transfer see who else has recalled this particular backpack. My money’s on BaBS-Y’s found a way to access the data banks again.”

“That’s impossible,” Min scoffed but with concern rather than conviction.

“I think we’ve said that enough about this robot,” Matiew replied, “and we keep being proven wrong.”

Min sat there for a moment and then opened a call to Data Transfer. It only took her a moment to explain what she needed from them and another moment for them to check and confirm Matiew’s suspicion.

“Cut it off,” Min told them but Matiew interrupted her.

“No!” he said, “Don’t let it know we’ve noticed what it’s doing!”

“This is a huge security breach,” Min countered.

“One that we can isolate, though, right?” he asked.

There was a brief pause as both Min and Matiew waited for the guy from Data Transfer to answer.

“Uh, you asking that question to me?” he finally asked.

“Yes,” Matiew tried to keep the impatience out of his voice. “Can you let BaBS-Y continue to request information while keeping it isolated from anything important?”

“Well, it doesn’t have access to much else that would be dangerous. You know, ship systems, security, and so on.”

“Well let’s all assume it were to get that access,” Min said, picking up on what Matiew was wanting to do. “Could we lock it out somehow without being too obvious about it? If we can observe what information the robot is after we may be able to anticipate its next move.”

“Yeah,” he said after a bit, “shouldn’t be too hard. We’ve got its user ID now, so we can just –

“Do it,” Min cut him off. “Send us a report every time that robot tries to access anything.”

“Will do,” the man replied, obviously eager to end the call.

As soon as the connection closed, Min turned back to face Matiew, “what are you thinking we’ll learn from this?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Matiew replied, “but this way we might finally be able to get a head start on whatever it does next.”

They both nodded and Matiew excused himself from Min’s office. He had a lot to do, and if this panned out, he’d likely have even more to deal with before the day was done.

“Stupid robot,” he muttered. “Stupid robotics designers.”