Metallic Dreams of Hammers and Sickles

[jammi]

I heard Lieutenant Lanakov gave you a name, 74. That right amigo? Lieutenant Julio Quinteillia slouched down into his chair, to try and get a little more comfortable. The more senior flight and flag officers got the better seats in Kalashnikov's. Usually it was through the intimidation of presence alone that would cause a subordinate to shift, not even a word being required.

The machine looked up with rather hollow, colorless eyes. They regarded the Lieutenant without emotion. It spoke without emotion as well, "That is correct, Lieutenant. I have been titled Viatcheslav. They thought a number didn't fit something such as myself. I needed a name." The mechanical head swivelled slowly, peering about at the other patrons as they enjoyed their free time.

Julio peered at the robot opposite him. It was a standard deck maintenance rig, but it was what was inside that counts. 74 was probably the single most advanced piece of technology on the station, or even in the system, simply because of what had been uploaded into that simple standard template machine.

He pulled his drink across the table and continued to stare at the robot. He wondered for a moment if he was comfortable. Then he scolded himself. It wasnt a he, and it couldnt feel. Thats good. Do you like your name? He wondered if that would throw the machine. When hed first met it, itd talked of emotions. Rage, yes. Rage was passion, but could it comprehend other emotions too?

The head quickly turned back to Julio. "It is a rather nice name. It does not refer to me as a machine or an object of repetitive tasks. It shows me as a human. It is rather comforting." A soft, mechanical chuckles emanated from the speakers on the machine's face.

That threw Julio, an answer he truly hadnt been expecting. He picked up the shot glass, and finished the rest of the sludge that the serving staff called a spirit. Im glad to hear you like it. What about fighting? What do you feel about that? He was gaining a sinking feeling that he was going to have to revaluate his views on the machine, and quickly at that.

The head inclined slightly to the left. "That would depend on who was being terminated. You must understand that my role as a Harvester was to kill. There was nothing more than killing that satisfied the sensation known as happiness or amusement. Even now, I still take great pleasure in terminations. Mind you, I will not go out my way to terminate something. It's just what I must do when told, not when I want to." The machine brought its hands on the table intertwining its fingers in a mimicry of the man a few tables to the left.

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