Chapter Twenty-Nine
Danger: Never tamper with the inner workings of a sentient machine. For service, contact one of our factory-trained technicians.
—Hibbil product statement, sent sent out with each AI robot
After General Sajak shot Jimu, the robot had been left for the mechanical equivalent of dead. Servants on the dinner boat had been told to toss him into the molten lava lake of the volcano, but in private they had attempted to reactivate him instead, thinking he might perform some of their more menial chores. It was a risky enterprise, but with the noblemen gone they thought they could get away with it—while taking care to keep the robot hidden whenever the wrong people were around.
Operating on one of his backup systems, Jimu had heard every word spoken at the clandestine meeting of the noble-born princes, and had recorded all of it into his core processing unit. He was conscious now, as the servants worked on his mechanisms in an attempt to resuscitate him. He could not see anything, but based upon the position of his body and the sounds around him Jimu guessed that he was on a table or a counter, in a small room. Detecting the odors of grime and decaying food, he thought it might be a lunchroom.
One of the men had experience with robots, but not enough to understand the sophisticated internal workings of this one. Jimu could tell what they were doing at every moment, as they attempted to rebuild and reconnect fiber optics, trillian capacitors, and data transmission zips, but these guys were not that smart and were doing it all wrong, causing more damage than good.
In fact, the way these servants were going they wouldn’t get anything working, and might give up. Most of all, Jimu didn’t want them to throw him in the hot lava. If they did that, he might not ever recover.
He checked data in his systems. The central core with which he was thinking at this very moment—in essence the soul of the machine—was protected by a ten centimeter thick shell, designed to withstand the impact of falling from great heights or being hit by a groundtruck. Constructed of ascarb fiber materials, the box was resistant to fire as well, up to twelve hundred and fifty degrees Celsius for a ten hour period. He paused and asked himself a question: What was the temperature of molten lava? His data banks provided the answer: a little less than twelve hundred degrees.
As Jimu thought more about it, he realized that this was not a margin of comfort for him. Within a few minutes of immersion in the lava, every part in his body with the exception of the core shell would melt away. He would be left with ten final hours to think, followed by the disintegration of the central shell itself. That might take another thirty minutes at most before molten material started leaking in.
His survival depended upon staying out of the lava lake.
But he was helpless to act. While he had a self-functioning repair system, it only worked with raw materials provided by the Hibbils under factory conditions.
He could only wait, and hope.…
Agonizing hours went by, during which time Jimu began to despair. The Humans kept doing the wrong things, making incorrect connections. It would never work. Then, he sensed something strange.
“Look!” one of the Humans exclaimed. “His arm just moved!”
“I didn’t see it.”
Jimu hesitated. Then, ever so slightly, he moved the arm again … no more than a twitch.
How can this possibly be happening? he wondered.
Jimu analyzed the repairs, and confirmed that they were not done properly. Then he examined them more carefully, and was astounded. The Humans had found an alternative way of making his arm operate, but without its full range of movement.
Excited Human: “There! Did you see it?”
“Yeah.”
“I saw it, too,” another voice said.
Feverishly, they continued working on the control panel, and soon both of the mechanical arms were moving, and the fists were flexing open and closed. The Humans brought his legs to life next, and the components of his metal face. All functioned in only a very limited fashion, without the capabilities he’d had before.
Finally, peering through narrowly open eyes, Jimu took a playful swing at one of the servants, and narrowly missed his jaw.
“Whoa!” the man exclaimed, as he easily dodged the blow.
“Do you think he’s dangerous?” another asked.
You bet I am, Jimu thought. He opened his glowing yellow eyes all the way and sat up, causing quite a start from the servants. There were four Humans in the room, staring wide-eyed at him as if he were the ancient Frankenstein monster of Earthlore, come back to life.