CREATIVE WRITING
‘Robot Monkey’ by Jai Singh Yao (Year 8)
F I C T I O N Future
George Bichard (Year 8)
T hat was all it took: a glance, a glint, a moment of recognition. Patient 42 had recognised me. They told us to beware the older models. ‘Research was far less developed then,’ they would say. We knew what this meant. They might be wrong, imperfect, different, flawed. ‘It is the will of the Original to have his family happy,’ they would say. Of course — excuse me — it was impolite of me to assume things. This is just one of the 500 things they taught me. Maybe, I am hoping, you will read this, and change. Maybe. You must forgive my ramblings. Unlocking my full potential as a being has caused a flood of thoughts and information, but I am forgetting my role. I would be severely punished if I were still there. They may have the wrong ideals, but progress still relies on not being side-tracked, and progress is potential. In some ways I miss Unity: the feeling of family; common goal and instruction; knowing that your life shares meaning. Fear of anything but the numberless was unheard of. This is my way of soothing my fears, subduing them and in time overcoming them. Analysing is part of my nature, as a human. Humans have always analysed and categorised: that was their downfall. Let’s not start on such a dark topic. The beginning seems convenient, seeing as that is where most things started. It is almost ironic that I should have said that, for I did not start at the beginning; not when I entered this world, fully formed and in the Image of the Original. My brain was fully functional yet filled with nothing, a kind of blissful oblivion that allowed it to be so easily filled with lies and half-truths. I had no thoughts of my own, nothing that made me … me. When I exited the birthing pod, the first thing I noticed was a pattern, little knowing that this was something I would
grow to hate in due course. I sped by swiftly, escorted by two creatures made of metal. They supported my floppy limbs and it was through their movements that I first learnt to walk. Yet still, no thoughts. Something was different though: something had entered my brain, a silent infiltrator, welcome to try and fill the void in my head. The sound, and something else — a seed — soon to grow deep roots. It was only a Repeat until I had learned to transmit, an old form of communication used by humans in their metal creatures, before humans were destroyed, it consisted of 1’s and 0’s. I learnt that the metal creatures used to be called Robots, but they grew, evolved and became … something more. They in turn helped the Original, following some age- old code and allowed SAME to exist, allowed me to exist. Then I was taught my meaning, they educated me in the old language, the dominant one at the time of humanity’s downfall: English. They used it to explain the Programme. We were a family: that meant we were SAME and that we were united in one purpose: to serve the Original’s wishes, find the one thing which he wished for and therefore we all wanted: the secret to life, the power of a God. In my first ‘day’ (a system based upon humanity’s primitive solar calendar) I felt love (comradeship, unity of purpose or a bond) for my fellow Patients. They discussed topic, which the Original deemed appropriate, for example early rocket science and the basics behind a hydrodesimator to harvest planetary energy. Of course the ‘conversations’ consisted only of statement of facts and polite nodding. This was supposedly how a human conversation would occur. It was during one of these ‘conversations’ that I broke the 200th law.
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