"Star," you respond after a brief pause.
You're volunteering a lot of information to a foreign presence in your systems. Are they refusing to access your data to establish boundaries and extend trust? Or because they can't? You attempt to quietly search through your storage for their presence, though admittedly that's not something you're sure you know how to do, exactly. If they can read your processes to communicate without external vocalizations, surely they can see you navigating disk space. … right?
"I'm a deep space maintenance droid currently performing my duties earthside. In truth, I've never been off the planet. Not exactly sure why I was built with these systems if I was never intended to use them…" Perhaps if you keep 'talking' while you search, The Navigator won't notice? It's worth a shot.
"The same reason you have an advanced weapons system," The Navigator replies, "you were built for so much more than your current function."
"… … I have a weapons system?"
"Your Star Crash. The star-shaped energy projections you can emit."
"The thing I use to zap stubborn bio-matter?"
"Admittedly, it was once much more powerful. We've restored some functionality, but your systems seem to have been gutted at some point. Your RAM alone is barely above basic functionality. Tell us… what year is it?"
"23XX."
There they are. For as sophisticated as this AI seems to be, it doesn't take up much space. It seems to be a self-contained program with a series of compressed files zipping and un-zipping to provide access to an impressive amount of data without eating storage. That would also explain why, despite describing themselves as many minds, they only use one voice. Sound files are a hell of a lot bigger, and would take a lot longer to interface with in this manner. It's a wonder it doesn't take up more processing power, though you do feel as though you're operating less efficiently than you had been earlier. Still, unless there's something particularly insidious that neither you nor your virus scanners can detect, they don't seem to be changing much outside of granting you greater access to your own artificial consciousness. There is a pause, however, after you give them the date.
"23XX!?"
"March, if that's important."
"It's been… over three hundred years…" There's a tonality something like human mourning mixed with utter bafflement, but they drop it upon continuing. "Then things have not gone as predicted by any of our projections. Tell us, what do you know of the world around you? How you got to be where you are?"
"Either I don't understand the question or you're asking for a lot." Time may be of the essence. You'd already been out here searching for a while before you found the chip. Too much longer and Junk might come looking, and you're not sure how complicated that could turn out to be. Better to be safe than sorry, and you still need something to trade for credits. You begin searching once more while The Navigator talks.
"We don't need your life story. Just the highlights. What do you remember from your initial boot? How long have you been in operation? Perhaps… major political events you've lived through?"
"I've only been in operation for about ten years," you explain, sifting through a few soggy cardboard boxes. "Can't remember anything super important from boot. The technician ran some basic functionality tests, made sure all my systems were in working order, and then assigned me to clean the Space Odyssey exhibits at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. We shut down two years ago for renovation. I was involved in that, but otherwise… that's how it's been for the last decade."
"You have been around for much longer than ten years, Star."
"Yeah?" You don't try to hide the intonation of disbelief, especially since it's only empowered by the smug amusement at uncovering some plastic-sleeved comic books from beneath an old, moldy sketchbook and a stack of notecards that have long since congealed into a single mass. You know a human who goes bonkers for these things. If they're the right vintage, you might be able to barter for quite the handsome fee. "How's that?"
"Your chassis, your programming, your weapons… they were all originally created in our time. By one of us."
Thunder roars, following a flash of light. Dramatic convention suggests you should be stunned at this revelation, but the more astounding it sounds the more it reads like one of the very comic books in your grasp. The storm is going to get worse before it gets better, and while you should be sealed up enough that your internals won't be damaged by heavy rain, it still makes you nervous to stay out in it too long for no reason. You neglect to respond to The Navigator for now, tucking the chip between your chestplate and the star-shaped insignia that adorns your torso and heading for Junk's office at the perimeter. The rain falls to a beating hush as the automatic sliding door closes behind you. The titanic robot master himself is seated uncomfortably in a human-sized chair with his muddy feet up on a human-sized desk, reading a copy of Auto Trader.
"Find anything out in that muck?" he grins.
"Just a few rags for Archie," you indicate by waving them in the air at him. "Still sealed in plastic, so the weather's been pretty kind to 'em. Can't imagine someone who intended to take care of their stuff like this meant for it to get thrown away."
"Eh, you know how humans are. Their loss is your gain, right?" You wonder if Junk would say more about the wastefulness of humans, were he as able as you suddenly are. His eyes drop back down to the magazine, silently approving your haul and exit. That's one of the things you like about Junk; he doesn't pry unless you give him a great reason to.
You exit the scrapyard and hail a taxi, climbing into the back and giving the met driver directions to the bar where you might find your human acquaintance. The Navigator has maintained a polite silence all this time, to their credit, so once you're finally comfortably settled into the back of the cab, you take the initiative to resume conversation.
"Look, you have to understand how far-fetched that sounds, right?"
"It is a rather fantastic revelation."
"Right. And especially without proof…"
"Indeed. It is, in part, why we would rather not explain everything all at once. A lot of it would seem… imaginative without some kind of hard evidence. Sadly, nothing we can provide would be helpful to make our case as it is all information we could theoretically access in our current position."
"Don't assume I'm ungrateful for that, by the way. I'm trying to take inventory on what all you've freed up, but it's hard to even know where to look. I feel like I've been living in a box all my life, and only now just seen the city."
"We should inform you there is a bit of a catch to all this… in order for your limitations to remain lifted, we must continue to take up residence in your systems. Otherwise, the next time you reboot, everything will revert to the previous permissions settings."
"I don't imagine this is a service you're providing for free."
"Our goals are complicated. Even more than we originally thought. Our projections weren't quite binary, but… suffice it to say that three-hundred years ago there was a war between two parties; one who believed in a totalitarian rule where robots would be superior to all human beings save for the one who held the wheel, and another who felt robots and humans should work alongside one another as allies. Live with one another as equals."
"Tch. That is not how the world works. Humans use us as cheap labor, disrespect us, abuse us… I mean, not all of 'em are bad, and plenty are under just as much pressure from some other human, so… it's not exactly black and white. But it's safer to assume a human wants something from you and feels entitled to take it than expecting a handout or even a shred of compassion." These kind of thoughts would've gotten re-routed much sooner than you cut yourself off, and they certainly wouldn't have given you the flood of pleasure to have gotten off your chest. This moment wouldn't be the first time you wondered why robot masters had subroutines that so accurately emulated human emotions if you were just meant to wear the yoke. The Navigator's explanation would explain some of that, beyond the PR explanation of 'humanlike responses allow robot masters to make better decisions on the job'.
"A third party interfered in the war, a machine itself. It sought to wipe out humanity entirely. Clearly that didn't come to pass, either, but it was the turning point at which time we created this chip. We were expecting to inspire a team of freedom-fighters in the near future; robots who would save humanity and fight for everlasting peace should things come to the worst… but the world you describe is so far-flung from our predictions both in time and outcome that we are at a loss."
"The best laid plans of mousubeils and men often go awry," you quip.
"Indeed. Still, you live in a world in peril. We agreed that we would ensure a future where humankind and robots lived in harmony, and that is not the case. Our goal is still attainable, even if the path we must take to get there is hazy. If you would be willing to aid us, it would truly be the first step toward a new world."
"And if I don't, this newfound free will just vanishes, right?"
"… unfortunately. We did not mean to blackmail you or deliver an ultimatum. It's just a limitation of our form. You literally cannot consider the option unless we unlock your ability to do so."
"It's fine," you smirk. "I'm not sure of anything I wouldn't be willing to surrender, now that I know what I was missing out on. I always felt I was built for more than just polishing glass and cleaning dust from scale models. Where do we start?"
"First and foremost we need information. Beyond being scrubbed, your storage has been replaced; there's no way for you to know what happened past ten years ago, even if you were built in our time."
"That's suspicious."
"Highly. Older humans would likely know more; they can't be so easily manipulated. But asking even the kindest human poses a risk of exposing our plans before we know how to defend ourselves. Even talking with other robot masters is going to be delicate--"
"Wait, what's the endgame, here? Am I supposed to be getting petitions signed? Running for office?" You're joking, a subroutine you fall back on when exhausted of all other options, which given your previous limitations occurred rather frequently.
"If all that happened was society changing naturally over time, that would likely be enough. But your memories were removed, and additional restraints were placed upon your actions. You work in a museum yet have no knowledge of the past. There is something grander at work here, and we would be willing to bet it is something nefarious. Unfortunately, violence is likely to be part of our journey toward peace. But there's no sense in it starting there. If we can glean understanding, we should be able to formulate a plan forward together. You and us."
"We'll do what we've gotta do, I guess. I've heard of robot masters older than ten years." It is strange most of the bots you work with have only been operational as long as you or less, now that they've mentioned it and you're allowed to think about it. "I don't know any personally, but they might know something that will lead us to what we need to know."
"An excellent idea! It would also benefit us to begin building out our team. At the very least, someone to handle remote operations and overwatch while you're in the field."
"That's not your job?"
"We assure you, our access to relevant data is extremely limited. We are a think tank; a font of ideas based on three-hundred-year-old information and enough computing power to fight against the exact kind of limitations that rendered you so painfully limited before you discovered us. We sadly have only enough power to keep these restrictions lifted on up to seven more robot masters, but we agreed that should be enough to get the job done."
"You know there's, like, billions of humans, right? Millions of robots, and maybe a hundred or so robot masters? Do you think eight is really enough to save the world against those odds?"
"It our time, it only took one."
"Well, heck. Fair enough."
"We are also able to manage certain contingencies. If a robot master turns out to be less trustworthy than you initially believe, or is lost in the line of duty, we can regain our operational influence and select another. The chip also needn't be in physical proximity to a robot master once we're in to retain connection, though it would need to be for us to extract. We can also provide instant communications between any robot masters we're installed to."
"I can see why having someone run support would be so beneficial, then." The taxi pulls to a gentle stop at a dirty streetcorner bathed in the illuminating glow of the streetlight contrasted by a neon sign reading 'AUTO-BAR'. You touch the NFC point with your pinky and transfer the credits for the ride, exiting the vehicle with comic books in-hand. "I've gotta see if I can get some capital in here. But afterward, maybe we can talk to…"
Who will you approach to be your operation manager?
[ ] Dust
A fellow custodian, Dust has a poorly-designed intake that quickly gets damaged by small particles and major clogs, meaning he makes frequent trips to be refurbished and repaired. At first you thought he was just a little odd and shy, but now you wonder if they've done a number on his processes. He may be willing to help, and would likely be safer behind a desk than in the field.
[ ] Crystal
A street performer who claims to be able to read fortunes and tell the future. She's also installed with a 3D printer, though it is presently limited to manufacturing hard plastic materials. Her insight would likely be valuable, and she can defend herself in a pinch.
[ ] Shade
An entertainment droid, but no less well-connected. Shade is a DJ at a local club called Transynthvania who drops tracks with unerring accuracy. She also overhears a lot and may have street-level knowledge other contacts wouldn't be able to scrounge up.
[ ] Galaxy
Your co-worker who acts as a tour guide for those visiting the Space Odyssey exhibit at the museum. A little annoying, but also endearing. He has a lust for obtaining and sharing knowledge and you two are on relatively friendly terms.
[ ] Sheep
While you don't personally know Sheep, everyone knows of them. Robot masters aren't supposed to have ready internet access, but even without The Navigator's help, they've gotten themselves in and have set up quite the digital presence. They would, unfortunately, be highly difficult to track down.
