The New Knights - Chapter 3-19
My favorite robot on the whole planet (sorry R8PR) is here on display at the Atlanta Annual Tech Expo. AR73, the experimental learning robot that I went on a little adventure with about a month ago. I love this kid.
I didn`t expect it to be here at the tech expo like this, but then again, it IS one of the most advanced robots around today. Now that I think about it, didn`t Karina say she first met AR73 at last year`s expo?
"AR73!" I shout and wave, but the crowd is too loud and I`m completely drowned out. It seems like it`s occupied, anyway; it`s currently entertaining a gaggle of school children who are watching it paint a picture. Said picture, though, is basically just a punch of random colors.
It slathers on a coat of purple and the kids cheer at the way the purple mixes with the rest of the paints on the canvas and turns into a weird murky brown.
It makes a delicate swipe across the canvas in orange, then adds two vertical lines. It`s... a smiley face! the children go absolutely nuts when they see it. AR73 does a little bow and the kids clap wildly for it.
That`s good. That makes me happy, even if the art kind of sucks.
Once the kids clear away, AR73 turns the canvas backwards, and steps down from the platform. I break away from the crowd and greet it.
"Hey, hey, hey!" I greet.
It gives me a blank look. "Interesting..."
"Huh?"
It studies me closely, as if it doesn`t remember me. Oh no, was its memory wiped? Did it intentionally wipe away our day because it actually hated me?
"I don`t believe you`re a member of the press," it says. "Morgan, why is your badge wrong?"This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
I look down at the press pass Larkins managed to procure for me. "Oh, this?" I start to laugh at how silly this must look, that baby-faced Morgan Harding is actually an ace technology reporter getting a major scoop.
"Lying is wrong, Morgan. You should tell them about the mistake."
"Okay now, goody two-boots," I retort.
"I don`t have boots. These are my feet," it says, pointing down to its red bootie-shaped stumps. Weird, I thought they were gray. It also seems a bit taller than last time, coming up almost all the way to my chest.
"Did you get a new body?" I ask.
"Yep!" AR73 exclaims. "I got upgraded last week, just in time for the expo. I like growing. It makes me feel cool, like a real kid."
I bend down and pat it on the little round thing on top of its head. "Oh, you are a real kid to me."
"Interesting... You are a lot more sentimental than the last time we met," it says. "Have you grown to appreciate the power of human companionship?"
"If that`s a roundabout way of asking if Karina and I shacked up, I`m going to be real mad at you for being a cheeky little brat."
"I don`t know what most of that means."
"Hey, by the way," I say, standing up and straightening out my dress shirt. "Are you on break or whatever? Maybe we can go see Karina together and give her a big surprise. Whaddya say?"
AR73 looks positively... well, pleased, I guess, but it`s still a robot so it`s hard to tell. It responds, "I would be--"
"Hey, AR73, the next round of kids are comin` around in five minutes. You better get your supplies ready." I look behind the robot and see the overweight, balding man of my nightmares. "Oh, it`s you," he says.
"Oh, it`s you," I mirror.
Kevin O`Conner.
He flashes his glasses at me and then rubs his beard stubble. "You... you don`t got that roastie with you this time."
"R...roastie? Is that a racial slur?"
He chuckles; it sounds sarcastic, but then he says, "You`ve got a lot to learn about the world. Don`t let those college classes poison you."
"Um, yeah." I turn to AR73. "On second thought, you`re probably really busy. Mind if I leave you to it?"
"That`s okay. We can play again some other time," it says.
I hold out my hand for a fistbump. AR73 grabs it with both hands and shakes it.
As I depart, all I can think of is how sad it must be to have to live with such an awful dude every day. Poor robot. But... it`s still a good kid.