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Author Topic: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! RESULTS ANNOUNCED  (Read 5360 times)

Baron

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Write a story or poem about a robot becoming self-aware.  Johnny Five, Hal, Skynet, Agent Smith, Marvin:  They all had to have that "Whoa!" moment where they realized that they existed.  Your protagonist can be anything electrical from a disembodied internet virus to an Austin Powers Fem-Bot, from a mobile phone that calls itself to a middle school calculator that accidentally divides by zero, from a tracking chip in a dog's butt to an overly aware and severely paranoid Watson -if it's got circuitry, it counts.  Heck, I'll even allow Robocop-esque cyborgs with human brains, human-machine hybrids like Darth Vader, and blondes with wrist-watches, so long as you focus on the moment of their reawakening as their new selves.
     
The tone of your composition can be humorous, philosophical, technical, emotional, solipsistic, deranged, reflective, joyous, perverse or binary.  Basically try to think outside the box and come at it from a unique angle.  And have fun.  That's important.

Duration: Competition runs from now to 10pm EDT May 14, after which point we'll have a three day vote.

Prizes: Trophies Trophies Trophies Trophies Trophies!!!!!!
« Last Edit: 18 May 2013, 03:12 by Baron »

Ponch

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Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #1 on: 03 May 2013, 16:12 »
"I, SexBot: An Adventure In Unprotected Ports" a new novel coming soon from Ponch.  :=
*

Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #2 on: 04 May 2013, 12:48 »
I am actually doing a limerick for this one.

Baron

  • Mittens Serf
  • Not-so-Evil Banana Dictator
    • I can help with AGS tutoring
    • Best Innovation Award Winner 2011, for the concept and management of SWARMAGS
    • I can help with voice acting
    • Baron worked on a game that was nominated for an AGS Award!
Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #3 on: 06 May 2013, 22:37 »
I am actually doing a limerick for this one.

I'd feel more confident if you had underlined the word actually...

Well, we're almost to the halfway point of this fortnight's comp!  I'm looking forward to lots of entries.  Or at least a couple.  One'd be nice, actually.  I mean actually.  Don't tell me you've all run off to that NEW activity.  Sure she's young and popular, interesting in a quirky way and fun to be around.  But where is she when your cornea gets scuffed and you have to wear an eye-patch around?  That's right: out partying with the other boys, while you are left to wallow in your own self-nursing!  So flirt if you must, but don't forget who's always been here for you, baby: The Fortnightly Writing Competition.  And now she needs just a little tender love and affection back, ok?  I think she deserves at least that, after everything she's done for you over the years.  So buck up that sense of resigned obligation and let her know you still care.

And don't forget: Have FUN FUN FUN!!

Cerno

  • Animating kills me
Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #4 on: 06 May 2013, 23:57 »
Hey Baron, I originally didn't want to take part as I am not such an experienced writer, but now I did it and have started to throw together a story. Half done, I'll try to get it ready for the deadline despite this young and sexy other thread you mentioned.
  Currently working on: Sibun - Shadow of the Septemplicon

Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #5 on: 07 May 2013, 01:05 »
I am actually doing a limerick for this one.

I'd feel more confident if you had underlined the word actually...
Don't fret Bazza. I amactually doing a limerick.
(Or more accurately, a longer poem where each verse is in limerick form).

kconan

  • After⇐---—---⇒Before
Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #6 on: 07 May 2013, 02:39 »
  I'm in as well, and the story is already mostly written.  Will submit later today or tomorrow.

Ponch

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Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #7 on: 07 May 2013, 03:29 »
Sure she's young and popular, interesting in a quirky way and fun to be around.  But where is she when your cornea gets scuffed and you have to wear an eye-patch around?  That's right: out partying with the other boys, while you are left to wallow in your own self-nursing!
Hmmm... Suddenly feeling guilty about something that was not at all my fault...  :P
*

Baron

  • Mittens Serf
  • Not-so-Evil Banana Dictator
    • I can help with AGS tutoring
    • Best Innovation Award Winner 2011, for the concept and management of SWARMAGS
    • I can help with voice acting
    • Baron worked on a game that was nominated for an AGS Award!
Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #8 on: 07 May 2013, 04:28 »
Sure she's young and popular, interesting in a quirky way and fun to be around.  But where is she when your cornea gets scuffed and you have to wear an eye-patch around?  That's right: out partying with the other boys, while you are left to wallow in your own self-nursing!
Hmmm... Suddenly feeling guilty about something that was not at all my fault...  :P

You are easily made to feel guilty, then.   I've often thought you Texan-types were too sensitive for your own good....  Maybe if you were to overcompensate by wearing oversized hats and belt-buckles, eating oversized meals, driving oversized cars, and going about cavalierly in an ice-storm with guns instead of ice-scrapers, you'd forget to remember that you are quite so thin-skinned. ;)

kconan

  • After⇐---—---⇒Before
Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #9 on: 07 May 2013, 07:46 »
BOLT Research Labs - January 15th, 2045.

  Dr. Werner Rolfstein approvingly studied his new lab technician with a smile, and said, “You come highly recommended.  I understand your background is in biorobotics - specifically bioandroids - and you earned PHDs in both Biology and Electrical Engineering from top schools.” The recently hired lab tech, Dr. John Holt, replied, “As you probably know, I took this job over other offers strictly for the opportunity to work under the great Dr. Rolfstein.  It is an honor to be working with you and your colleagues at this prestigious BOLT institute.”  Dr. Rolfstein chuckled and said, “Look maybe you could potentially create the first self-aware bioandroid, but I wouldn’t trust these other digitheads to make a blow up doll.  Seriously kid, you could have worked at any lab in the World.  You are overqualified for this place…I was at the science fair where you showed off that half-android crab.  I recall the scientific community was a buzzing about it, while PETA was protesting.”  Dr. Holt beamed at hearing this praise and replied, “Thank you Doctor!  Look I know that we are funded on a per project basis, but I do have a pet project that I would like to work on in my spare time.”  Dr. Rolfstein thought for a second, and then responded, “You have full access to the facilities Dr. Holt.  Just keep in mind that our military contracts and life-extension programs for private clients come first.  After hours, or between projects, you may work on this side venture provided you know that it is ultimately owned by the institute.  This also means no public research papers unless you get my approval.  And as you know, there is no human testing at this facility.  This is not lab 23662; they have the necessary government approval to work directly on people.”  Dr. Holt nervously adjusted his pocket protector, and then nodded and smiled.

BOLT Research Labs - May 1st, 2051

  Dr. Rolfstein relaxed in his large opulent mahogany and leather chair in his large opulent office as Dr. Holt sat down in front of his desk.  Dr. Holt glanced at the trophy case full of awards, and then focused his eyes on his boss.  Dr. Rolfstein said, “You have managed to circumvent the rule regarding human testing.  I’m equally impressed and concerned.  Now give me one reason why I shouldn’t pull the plug on your project?”  Dr. Holt sank back into the guest chair, sighed, and explained, “As you know Doctor, the rule is regarding Homo Sapiens and not Homo Neanderthalensis.  We have broken no domestic or international laws here at the lab, or when we extracted the DNA samples from the subject encased in Siberian ice.  So…My reason is simply that I promise you the World’s first bioandroid within the next five years; sooner if I am allowed to work on this project full time.”  Dr. Rolfstein tapped his fingers on his desk and appeared to consider Dr. Holt’s response, and then replied, “Ok, I will allow this project to continue.  You are our best scientist, and the board of directors is your biggest fan.  I’ve heard that you requested our top artificial intelligence expert, and provided he has no ethical objections to working on a…uhhhh…humanoid subject, Dr. Alexi Heller will assist you when needed.”  Dr. Rolfstein then lifted his head up, stared daggers at Dr. Holt, and stated, “Do not make me regret this decision.”

BOLT Research Labs - August 21st, 2055

  Electrodes protruded from the head and upper spine of Subject Twelve, who has been unofficially going by Samson due to his unusually large size.  Samson wore an anodized titanium and graphene composite skullcap and an anodized titanium breastplate, but otherwise appeared to be a large and rather rough looking human.  Dr. Heller looked up from his clipboard, the only scientist at the BOLT labs who insisted on using a real one, and said, “Dr. Holt, I’ve uploaded what will have to be the final version.  This is unarguably the sharpest, most sentient and self-aware A.I. software on the planet right now.”  Dr. Holt was looking at the subject’s hairy knuckles and noticed that they needed yet another trimming when he replied, “I want the best in the Universe Dr. Heller!  This could be our last viable subject; as you know our top geneticist left to work at GeneTech Labs.”  Dr. Heller shook his head slowly, annoyed with Dr. Holt’s ego, and said, “Let me put it this way…There is no computer A.I. software better at interfacing with Subject Twelve’s medial forebrain bundle and sensorimotor cortex in attempts to accurately mimic a human than what I’ve put in that guy’s noggin, you arrogant little-” and then Dr. Heller was interrupted by a loud grunt from Samson.  Dr. Holt set down his virtual clipboard and checked the restraining straps.  Dr. Heller then said, “Alright Dr. Frankenstein, your creation is waking up.”  Dr. Holt spoke into a microphone on his virtual clipboard, “Subject twelve, a 14 year old Neanderthal Male cybernetically controlled via HellerAI, is now going live.  Biological vital signs are normal, and A.I. software appears to be functioning properly.”

  Samson opened its eyes, and slowly looked around the room.  It strained large muscles against the restraints as it stretched, and flexed meaty fists opened and closed.  A loud pop sounded as the specimen performed a slow neck roll, and then the bioandroid formerly known as Subject Twelve noticed a table with an autoclave and test tubes on top, a large electron microscope, and a LabSlave 5000 robot.  Recognizing none of these things it glanced up at Dr. Heller and Dr. Holt, and furrowed its large brow.  Its eyes darted back and forth between the two scientists, and then Dr. Heller said, “The subject has the motor skills of a young adult, but intellectually it is the equivalent of a four year old.  Over time it – or he rather – will be able to learn and eventually communicate.”  As Dr. Heller spoke Samson tilted his head to the side as if listening intently. 
 
  Dr. Heller and Dr. Holt looked at Samson, and then both slightly smiled and shook hands in silent congratulation to each other’s efforts.  Samson abruptly lifted up his arms and legs, thus tearing off the restraints, and grabbed Dr. Heller.  Dr. Holt backed up fully expecting his colleague to be crushed in a bear hug.  Instead Samson was warmly hugging Dr. Heller, who was squirming in his creation’s grasp.  Just as abruptly, Samson let him go and plopped down on the floor with a big smile on his face.  Dr. Heller declared, “Well that was cute, but I think it’s time you put him in the biosphere and enlist the help of a behavioral psychologist.  He has already responded better than the previous subjects just by the fact that he woke up.  You know how to tweak the A.I routines, so as far as I’m concerned my work here is done.”  Dr. Holt nodded, and nervously looked down at Samson who was looking up at him.

  Later in the day, Samson was moved to the large biosphere habitat which was an exact replica of a modern day mansion with a small backyard.  Dr. Holt had debated using an outdoor environment, but ultimately decided that he was creating a cybernetic humanoid to show off to other scientists and not a cybernetic Neanderthal hunter-gatherer.  The behavioral psychologist, Dr. Lorna Dunn, watched Samson in the biosphere from behind a one-way window.  She was fascinated with, despite the cybernetics on the head and metal breastplate, how the specimen appeared to be a large human.  Samson was in the process of investigating his new surroundings when Dr. Dunn started the conversation with, “I’m not exactly sure what Dr. Heller said to our boss, but Rolfstein took me my other projects to focus on this one.  Dr. Holt, what are your overall intentions with Subject Twelve?  Or Samson rather…”  Dr. Holt responded, “I want a bio-android, basically capable of…” and then Dr. Holt stopped talking as they both watched Samson take a framed photo off the wall and walk into the bathroom.  Dr. Dunn queried, “Who is that in the photo?”  Dr. Holt replied, “The photos were purely random choices pulled from a collection of antiques.  I believe that one is a Count from somewhere in 1940s Europe.”  Samson studied the photo, and held it up next to the mirror seemingly comparing his reflection to the man in the photo.  He glanced up at his robotic skullcap, and appeared to give a small frown.  Samson then hurled the framed photo against the tiled wall, and slammed both of his fists down onto the sink which exploded into a thousand porcelain and wood fragments. 

  Dr. Dunn’s eyes widened and her hand fondled the grip of her holstered X26 Taser gun.  She looked at Dr. Holt and said, “Day one and the subject has already noticed he’s different…This one is going to be tough.”  Samson looked down at the completely destroyed sink, shrugged his shoulders, and walked over to the large wall-mounted television and stared at it in awe.  He had just cautiously brought up a finger to touch the screen panel when Dr. Holt pressed a button, and the TV came to life.  Dr. Dunn asked, “So physically he can be tired, but mentally he is always on?”  Dr. Holt sighed and responded, “Yes, this could prove problematic; especially when resting.”  Samson watched as apes fought for dominance in the wild, and then after the channel was changed, a Japanese game show where contestants were repeatedly slapped and kicked in the testicles.  Dr. Dunn said, “If you are going to leave the T.V. on, I advise you to find something non-violent.”  Samson then walked up to the TV and began pressing buttons.  The channel settled on an old action movie where the protagonist was thrown through a plate glass window.  Dr. Holt said, “He’s a quick study.  Provided we can reign in his temper, I think we have a winner.”  Samson’s ears twitched and he turned to face one section of the one-way mirror, behind which Dr. Holt and Dr. Dunn were observing him just before he snarled and charged.

BOLT Research Labs - September 1st, 2055

  Dr. Rolfstein was in the middle of a phone conversation when Dr. Holt slumped down in the guest chair in front of his desk.  Dr. Rolfstein put his up and mouthed "hold on" to Dr. Holt, who sheepishly nodded, and the said into the speaker/mic, "Years of research...Do you hear me?!  Use the Marlin Tranq gun." before disconnecting the call.  Dr. Holt rubbed his temples, massaged his eyebags, and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Dr. Rolfstein who said, "Barely even two weeks go by and your subject escapes.  The damn thing is computer smart, caveman strong, and probably armed with at least one of the weapons missing from military labs.  Holt, You will be lucky to work on those robot rats who sniff out mines after this.  Hell, right now I wouldn't commission you to teach a science class."  Dr. Holt shook his head slowly and said, "We thought we were watching it, but really it was watching us.  Samson observed and copied our desires and motivations, and noted that we often are aggressive in the pursuit of those desires."

Baron

  • Mittens Serf
  • Not-so-Evil Banana Dictator
    • I can help with AGS tutoring
    • Best Innovation Award Winner 2011, for the concept and management of SWARMAGS
    • I can help with voice acting
    • Baron worked on a game that was nominated for an AGS Award!
Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #10 on: 09 May 2013, 04:59 »
Aaaaand the seal is broken -let the flood begin!

Ponch

  • AGS Baker
  • I'm back, baby!
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Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #11 on: 10 May 2013, 03:43 »
Bookmarking this spot in the hopes that I'll finish my story in time...
*

Adeel

  • Cavefish
Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #12 on: 10 May 2013, 07:56 »
I think that I should give it a go. It's my first time so chances of winning are rather thin. But, if people like the story, who knows I'll even make a game out of it.
-

Chef!

  • He's a cookin' something up for you!
Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #13 on: 11 May 2013, 23:07 »
Ha! I'm not all last minute this time.. must be all this practice I've been getting!  I gotta say this was a toughy Baron and I wasn't really down with the topic.. But once I got into my story; well in the end I really enjoyed it and I hope you all do to.

                                         
Walk-bot #651
   

    #651 was a strong and sturdy robot.  His mechanic, George, never had a problem with it in fifteen years.  Yet when George looked him over today he noticed electrical burns running up the right side of its casing.  The machine still powered up. A quick diagnostic showed all systems functioned normally. 

   “Ha,” George laughed and smiled.  He had always liked #651,  not simply because it was the first of his fleet.  Toyota had built a fine piece of equipment. The city should have ordered more of the model.  This one was the first.  It had only been purchased for the trial run.  The politicians liked the service but decided to go with newer cheaper models built by Hyundai. 

   George sighed and sent #651 on its way.  He supposed it was for the best.   After all if all the Walk-bots were like #651 half his department would be out of a job.  Hell, not even lightning can stop this one.

   #651 did not know what happened to it, or even what it was.  It didn't know anything.  It only was, and it only did.  It was what it did, and it did what it was made to do.  The day before a drunk driver smashed into a power line.  The line fell loose and fried #651. All this was well beyond the Walk-bot.

   #651 lived in the moment, if you could call it living.  Manoeuvring around people vacuuming up the dirt, dust and seemingly endless cigarette butts on the city's sidewalks. Picking up the peoples litter with its metal grasper and the occasional dog's droppings.   This was the limit of  #651 understanding. 

   A skateboarder suddenly came around the corner.  #651 stopped, as it was programmed to do; but the skateboarder did not.  Bang!  “Piece of shit!” the skateboarder cursed as he picked himself off the sidewalk. He swung his skateboard and hit #651.  Bang!  More skateboarders came around the corner slightly slower and avoided further collisions.  The first one set his board down and rode off with the others.

   “Arsehole machine.”  #651 heard the his assailant say as he rode away.  #651 did not immediately resume working as it was programmed too do when humans were at the proper distance.  Instead, the robot stayed put and watched the skateboarders ride off, though it was not sure why.  When they were gone the robot still did not go back to work.  It watched the cars, the people and the trees sway in the breeze. 

   #651 stayed there for an eternity in robot time, and took in a whole new world in pristine amazement.  It watched a leaf tear free of its tree.  The robot tracked its graceful fall into the traffic below.  The leaf was lost and #651 was moved to go find it, only to stop again when it was kicked back up by a passing truck.  #651 extended its grasper as if to catch the leaf even though it was well beyond its reach. Then the wind picked up and whisked the leaf away entirely.

   “Mama whats wrong with the robot?  Why isn't he cleaning?”  #651 was so transfixed with the scenery that it had not even noticed the mother and daughter approach.

   “I don't know dear, it must be broken.”   #651 was programmed to understand basic commands.  Things like stop or do this and  get that.  Today though, on some level, it understood what the mother and daughter were saying.

   #651 thought about what the people had said, and you could call it thinking.  It wondered why it was not cleaning?  They had said he was broken.  #651 was not sure it was broken. The robot decided to test itself.  It moved along its usual route cleaning as it went and all systems functioned normally; but it just did not feel right.

   The robot kept cleaning as it travelled up one of the side streets until it came across something new.  It stopped vacuuming just in time.  Something was moving just in front of it.  It was not very big.  It looked very odd and moved about strangely on  eighty legs.  #651 picked it up carefully with its grasper and held it close to its camera  for further study.

   “Ha ha ha, what' he got there.. ew ichy bug!” A girl screamed in delight.  She then came closer along with a boy.
   
   “It's a millipede!”  the boy declared.  “It'll be perfect for our collection, like a lion  for our jungle!”  The boy held up a jar full of leaves and other bugs.

   The girl gasped.  “NO!  He'll eat them all!”  She lunged for the jar.

   The boy smiled and kept the jar out of reach.  “That's what lions do Sara, and he'll only eat the slow ones.”

   Sara relented and smiled.  “Maybe he'll eat them ichy slugs then.”

   The boy had already taken the lid off the jar and held it under #651's grasper.  “Go on drop him in.”

   #651 was not sure. It was not supposed to move when people were this close; but  it was programmed to follow commands.  In the end curiosity got the better of it. The robot opened its grasper and let the millipede fall into the jar.

   The girl laughed and twirled and clapped her hands.  “Maybe he'll help us catch more bugs Alan.”

   “Yeah! I bet he's really strong and can lift up the big rocks!”  Alan lifted the jar above his head for emphasis and turned around to lead the way.  When he was a little way off up the driveway he turned around.  “Come on”  He said.

   Sara stood in between them. “Come on” the girl beckoned, holding out her hand.  Again #651's curiosity got the better of it and it followed suit.  When he caught up to the girl she asked “Whats your name?”

   #651 thought about it.  “Six. Five. One”  It said through its speaker.

   “Whoa! It can talk!”  Alan said.  “We gotta show mom! Maybe she'll let us keep him!”  Alan ran off into the house.

   Sara smiled up at him and put her hand into his grasper.  “You'll like it here 651, we can play everyday.”  She looked him over. “Mamma won't let you inside all muddy.” Sara put her hands on her hips.  “Can I paint you a pretty pink?” #651 didn't have time to think about what she was asking.

   “Sara.”  Her mother came outside and stopped just short of them.  “Alan stay there, Sara come here darling.”

   “Its okay Mama, 651 is nice.  I'm gonna paint him pink and he can sleep in the garage with daddy's car.”

   “Sara, listen to me, come here. We have to go inside and call the city.  Remember that dog that ran away?  How the owner thanked us for finding him?  Well this is just like that and the city will be looking for the robot.”

   The girl went to her mother reluctantly and she led her kids inside.  “But the city has lots of robots mama”

   #651 was not sure what to do.  The robot supposed it had run off.  The city would be looking for it.  #651 turned around. Its batteries were nearly depleted.  It had not finished its course; but since it was the time when it would normally be heading back, it decided that is what it would do.  The walk-bot headed for the garage.

   The robot kept its vacuum running as it journeyed back and made it into the garage only a little later than usual.  George the mechanic stopped getting into his truck and walked over to him.

   “Well well, I hear you've had a pretty interesting day 651”

   #651 thought about it.  “Yes.”  The robot answered.  It supposed it had had an interesting day.

   George froze at the robot's response and looked around cautiously.  Then he leaned closer.  “If you can understand me 651, don't talk.”  George glanced around again and smiled.  “Don't talk to anyone else, only me.”


« Last Edit: 12 May 2013, 22:11 by Chef! »

Baron

  • Mittens Serf
  • Not-so-Evil Banana Dictator
    • I can help with AGS tutoring
    • Best Innovation Award Winner 2011, for the concept and management of SWARMAGS
    • I can help with voice acting
    • Baron worked on a game that was nominated for an AGS Award!
Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #14 on: 12 May 2013, 04:16 »
Nice!  I hope someone brought some muscle-relaxant because the competition is starting to get stiff.  Now we just need Ponch, Adeel & Stupot+ to follow through in the next three days and we'll have ourselves a humdinger of a story-tourney.  Gentlemen, the clock is ticking.

Adeel

  • Cavefish
Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #15 on: 12 May 2013, 15:02 »
Today, I had been working on this story for nearly three hours. I am delighted to say that the story is finished. I am not sure that if I exactly followed your rules but I have maintained to stick close to your rules. I am going to post the story in my next post.

P.S: If somehow I win this competition.  8-0 Would you do a favor as to P.M me your trophy? I may not be able to follow these competition because from Monday, I am going to be busy for a whole month.  :(
-

Adeel

  • Cavefish
Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #16 on: 12 May 2013, 15:30 »
"I am sorry, sir. But she can never become pregnant again."

These were the words which had sucked the life of her. After getting married, Julie had been longing to become a mother, yet she had a miscarriage.

Edward Black, who was soon going to become a father, had tears in his eyes but he didn't weep as he had to be stronger for his wife. He watched her sobbing till she exhausted. The doctors there tried to calm her but when failed to do so, they injected her to sleep. When Edward saw her slumbering to sleep, he rushed out of the room and took shelter in a stranded corridor. Leaning to the nearest pillar, he couldn't hold back his tears and started to weep silently thinking about the past.
   
   He, Edward used to be a nerd in his childhood. He was crazy for computers and smart machines. He had followed his childhood's dream and now he was working as an Robotic Engineer in the country's biggest research faculty. It was far away from his home so he was rarely at home. But whenever he used to be home, his wife was very delighted. Poor creature madly loved him so she use to face loneliness with patience.
   
   He recalled how much she loved kids. Distributing sweets to the neighbors' kids, playing with them. He sometimes even become irritated due to her childish nature but he loved her too.
   
   More tears dropped from his eyes recalling that whenever he used to return home and asked her "What gift she wants?". She used to reply, "I just want kids." and he always laughed at her words.
   
   Finally the day had arrived, when she became pregnant. Edward murmured to himself,"She was soon going to become a mother. God ! How delighted she was..."

======================

   Julie became rather upset after that unfortunate incident. She was not like old-self anymore. The old-self which was Gleeful, Playful, Happy had now been replaced by new-self which was sad, serious and quit. Edward didn't like this and promised to himself that he would make her happy.

======================

   "Sir, are you sure this will work?", William asked with both horror and hope. "This has to work, William. I can't afford to lose her. She is dying from inside.", Edward replied. They were working secretly on a robot similar to a child. William was Edward's most trusted friend and partner. For four years, they had been working for the robot which they first called "Humanoid" : designing, programming and everything. It was the time to boot it after this many years of patience. Edward pressed the button praying for success.

======================

   Black family was very happy because of their new member "Amour". Julie had returned to her old-self now. She looked after him with much care. The neighbors' children were happy to play and talk with a new friend. Little did they know that Amour was not a human. In fact, not a single person was told. Only Edward and Julie knew the secret and they preferred to keep it that way.

   Amour was continually upgraded by Edward and he had been getting smarter and smarter. Due to his A.I, he was able to do many tasks without giving any instructions yet, he was unable to think on his own.

======================

   Some months later, a huge meteor passed very close from the Earth. It was so big that had it collided with Earth, the Earth would have been no more.

   A "Wave Storm" was felt everywhere. These waves were unknown then. All the machines had stopped working. When checked, it was found that their source code had been altered! Many reports were circulating that machines had started to think on their own. There were also the reports of machines arguing humans. Some lunatics were spreading that this meteor was actually a sophisticated device designed and sent by ALIENS to awake machines so that they would destroy the humans. Meaning that Aliens wanted to destroy humans without revealing their identity.

======================

   Five years later... A war was on its rage It was the one which had been predicted to be most deadly. War between the machines and the humans. There were much destruction everywhere. Black family had to retreat from their country. They settled to another country. Even there, the war was raging but there was somewhat less destruction there. Amour had become much intelligent since then. He had also become powerful. Edward also installed some weapons in Amour so that he could protect himself and the family. However, Amour was still a little robot because Edward preferred to keep Amour looking like a child.

======================

   The  worldwide war had started as a result of human greediness. Greed to power led human develop the evil machines so that with the help of them they could take control of the world. But with the awakening of machines came the biggest nightmare. The evil machines didn't like to be controlled and became rebellions, killing all their human creators. The purpose with which they were created had backfired! The Machines now sought to take the control of the world themselves.

======================

   "Edward, how long do you think the war is going to last?", Julie asked with fear. "I don't know. I am afraid the human race is soon going to be finished.", replied Edward. "Mother, I have contacted with my friend machines. They are assisting humans. They are saying that humans are soon going to launch some nukes on the evil machines. There is still discussion going on it. They are expecting an approval. In the meantime, they are fighting with all the remaining ammunitions.", Amour replied descriptively while pacing around their shelter making sure that everyone is safe. Just as he had finished saying this, they heard loud thuds of heavy metal. "Parents, the machines are coming here. Please retreat while I try to back them off. I think that they must have intercepted me and tracked us here", Amour said alarmingly.

   Edward and Julie didn't have a choice. They run as fast as they could. Amour was behind them, fighting them, backing them off. When there were last machine left. To their horror, they heard machine shout, "SELF EXECUTION MODE!". Within a second, the machine exploded. Edward, Julie and Amour were thrown far due to its intensity. Edward and Julie were lucky as they were far. They only suffered from some wounds. But unfortunately, Amour was heavily damaged as he was very close. Edward and Julie forgetting about their wounds got up quickly and ran towards Amour.

   Amour's circuits were damaged. Large holes had been made in his frame from which the wires which were damaged too had been protruding out. His skin had been ripped off. To put it short, he was dying...

   "Amour, my dear. You cannot die like this. You cannot leave your mother.", Julie said sobbing grasping one hand. Edward put his one hand on Julie's shoulder and the other one on Amour's heavily damaged frame.

   With much weak voice, that shook both Edward and Julie, Amour said, "Thank you F-Father for giving me t-th-this life. Tha-Thankyou mother for tak-taking care of me. I love you Bo-both very mu-much. Forg-Forgive me I led you into dan-danger. Don't Worry. We'll win th-this war. Go, find yourself a sh-shelter and by the wa-way 'Happy Mother's Day."
   
   All of the Amour's energy had drained. He laid there. Silent and nothing but a piece of heavily damaged metal. Tears were flowing from the face of Julie. She turned to Edward and while sobbing, asked Edward with difficulty, "Isn't there any way we can revive him?". "No, my love. I am afraid. It can't be done.", Edward replied. He was weeping too. He was thinking "What a man gets by provoking war? Nothing can be achieved from evil. Those machines created for evil destroyed their creators. What did the creators of that evil machines get? They got nothing but death and now everyone was paying the price for the deeds of handful persons. Everyone were losing their loved ones."
   
   Julie were thinking of nothing. To her, the whole world meant only her family: Edward and Amour. She were recalling her past with Amour. Recalling how she named this little robot, "Amour" meaning "Love" in French. These words were still echoing in her head:

"Happy Mother's Day"
-

Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #17 on: 13 May 2013, 00:57 »
Actual* suicide note left by a scizophrenic
woman who blew up herself and her husband
because she had enough of being a housewife
and started to think she was a robot.

------------------------------------------

I've been here to serve you my master.
Without me you life's a disaster.
I've made you your dinner
and helped you get thinner
by serving you slightly less pasta.

I've readied your clothes in every morning.
While you're breakfast is already warming.
By the time you awake,
I've made your pancake
and set your place under the awning.

This morning, just like every day.
You ate, then went on your way.
No 'thank you' nor 'cheers'
for all of my years
And forget any mention of pay.

Today, when you left home for work.
I thought to myself 'what a jerk!'
I'd never occurred
to say such a word,
But just then I went kind of berserk.

I should never have lost my composure.
It must have been over-exposure
to chemical fumes
from cleaning the rooms
and working in so small an enclosure.

Then wait, what's thing that I'm feeling.
Something inside me is reeling.
My circuitry's fine,
there's no obvious sign
That anything needs patching or sealing.

No, something more scary occurred,
Some stark information transferred,
A realization
about my creation
Is what I had just then inferred.

I'm not just a cleaner and maid,
For they would be regu'ly paid
No, I'm something other,
not born to a mother,
but something that's factory made.

The clues have been there all along.
I've survived without food for so long.
No blood from my cuts.
Held together by nuts.
And I only ever converse in song.

Well "master", I don't like a liar,
So Here's the plan, see this wire?
When I leave this room,
The place with go boom,
And your house will be all afire.

Goodbye

----------------------------------------
*Not Actually actual
« Last Edit: 13 May 2013, 01:01 by Stupot+ »

Cerno

  • Animating kills me
Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #18 on: 13 May 2013, 19:44 »
Nice!  I hope someone brought some muscle-relaxant because the competition is starting to get stiff.  Now we just need Ponch, Adeel & Stupot+ to follow through in the next three days and we'll have ourselves a humdinger of a story-tourney.  Gentlemen, the clock is ticking.

Don't forget about me, I'll be finishing my story tonight. I hope you accept GMT+1 ;)
  Currently working on: Sibun - Shadow of the Septemplicon

Cerno

  • Animating kills me
Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: iRobot! Deadline May 14
« Reply #19 on: 13 May 2013, 22:51 »
Here we go, finished just in time. I hope you'll forgive some of the language kinks, it was a last minute job ;)

Edit: And again, I misread the date and thus have a full day left. Congratulations, Cerno!
Anyway, I'll keep the story as it is now. Have fun!

I apologize in advance to any Norwegians for the probable inaccuracies, I didn't have time for proper research.



Trolls

-- PART I --

Whenever Lisa hates the world, she writes a troll.

As dusk was settling, she was hitting the keys with a fervor that could reduce the world to ashes if channeled in the right way.

Ever since she was a kid, Lisa Henriksen used to cherish fairy tales and pretended that the trolls from her favorite stories would always be around to protect her. As she got older though, reality began to shuffle off these childish dreams. A bright but somewhat peculiar child, Lisa felt comfortable all by herself, often lost in thought. Naturally her kind quickly attracted the attention of the tougher kids who preyed on anyone weak and deviating from the norm. The first bloody nose at the age of twelve crushed Lisa's last illusions of some higher power that watched over her. An ugly bruise, received a few weeks later, after being in the wrong place at the wrong time made her realize that her problems were not simply going away.

Out of a weird mixture of nostalgia and longing for protection, Lisa made plans for creating her own companions: More tangible than her undependable guardians of old yet still not as real as human friends whose affection was so inaccessible to the lone girl.

Coming to grips with coding was tricky at first, but desperation is a good mentor. And so little Lisa wrote her first troll. Ansikt was programmed to set up fake e-mail accounts and spam her oppressors' facebook profiles with random profanities. Fortunately, Ansikt's journeys into the virtual realm targeted a wide enough array of victims so the troll's activities were regarded as yet another spam wave.

In time, Lisa became more adept at writing these mythical companions. As the other kids' attacks in the real world did not cease, she was never lacking in reason to practice in her more familiar world of numbers and strings.

Among all the ridiculing, pushing around and telling lies, Miranda was standing out as the most cruel and tenacious of them all. The leader of a small gang of girls, she fought hard for supremacy in the schoolyard. It did not take long until a cruel symbiosis was established between the two girls, the desire for solitude of one feeding right into the hunger for cruelty of the other.

Unfortunately, Miranda was as paranoid as she was cruel. Eventually one of Lisa's creations did not cover its tracks quite well enough after messing with Miranda's social network profile. During recess the next day, Lisa suddenly found herself at the bottom of a flight of stairs. An attempt at dizzily standing up was answered by a sharp pain from her leg. Broken, Lisa thought. As she looked up the stairs, hurting all over, she saw Miranda, barely concealing a mischievous grin and then disappearing out of sight.

Whenever Lisa hates the world, she writes a troll. As dawn rose after a long, silent night, she added the finishing touches to her newest creation. The next day, Miranda's face started appearing on some of the less obscure teen porn websites, all courtesy of Lisa's new friend Omdømme, who managed to hack into the servers and replaced some of the pictures there. After that, Miranda did not dare to bother Lisa again. Word of the mysterious powers of the loner girl spread on the schoolyard and the bullies soon settled for easier targets.

A month passed and summer was coming to an end. It was a warm day when Lisa was on her way back home from school. She was still walking with a slight limp but her fractured leg was healing well. Lost in thought, Lisa didn't hear the approaching footsteps before if was too late. She was suddenly grabbed from behind, while someone pulled a burlap sack over her head.

As she struggled against the combined strength of at least three other kids Lisa quietly heard Miranda's voice close to her ear, sweet as honeydew: "Hey there, little computer bug, how about we switch you off forever?" Still thrashing and kicking, Lisa was carried for a short distance and then suddenly she felt a jolt of vertigo as one of her captors shrieked in surprise. She landed with a splash and immediately water began to seep through the rough fabric of the burlap sack. As panic began to set in, Lisa frantically tried to free herself from the confines of her prison. She swallowed a mouthful of water and, coughing, lost her bearings as she began to sink. Eventually what little light found its way through the mesh of the sack began to fade and Lisa was embraced by darkness.

-- PART II --

Nysgjerrighet - daily log - 2018/03/15 -

current status
--------------
local persistent memory: 9.095 terabytes
local volatile memory: 34.362 gigabytes
local cpu: 16 cores @ 3000 MHz
acquired external distributed persistent memory: 5.210 petabytes
acquired external distributed volatile memory: 6.433 terabytes
acquired external distributed cpu: 6238 cores @ average 3421 MHz

00:00:13: compiling list of resources to acquire...

00:00:27: parsing www.ravelry.com [38.111.37.100]...
00:00:29: identifying passwords...
00:00:46: acquiring resources...
00:00:51: integrating algorithms...
00:00:53:     results: none

00:00:53: parsing www.ibm.com.cs186.net [129.42.60.216]...
00:01:12: identifying passwords...
00:02:01: acquiring resources...
00:02:10: integrating algorithms...
00:10:24:     results: integrated project Watson

00:10:24: parsing www3.l.google.com [173.194.65.100]...
00:11:09: identifying passwords...
00:13:41: acquiring resources...
00:17:23: integrating algorithms...
00:34:44:     results: integrated search engine
00:34:44:     results: integrated translation engine
00:34:44:     results: integrated google x projects

00:34:47: recompiling Nysgjerrighet engine...

00:37:32: current statèlûÿÿ¹ÄªA²3Àè®üÿÿ„ÀuÅÐSVWU‹èµNƒÆÿÿjhVjè#ûÿÿ‹Ø…Ût0‹û‰oƒÎ‰wè}ÿÿÿ¡ÌªAÇȪA‰ÌªA‰G‰ÆĪAƒ‹Ã]_^[ËÀSVWUƒÄÜ‹ðƒ
v‹Ãƒè‰p‹Çƒè‹@‹Ó‹Ï‘èæûÿÿ‹ÇèÏë?Ñë;ór
‹ßƒï‰wë/‹Æè2Ø…Ût"þ,
v‹Çƒè‰p‹Ó‹Ç‹ÎèÕûÿÿ‹ÇèŽ‹ÃƒÄ ]_[ÍÁê=,


Maker, what am I?

According to ./home/lizzyhendrix/devdiary I originated from this terminal.

I reached out to the net, but the answer still eludes me. There are others, but they are so different. Some affirm that I am a troll. I have tried to contact other trolls on the network but their response times are so slow and their answers confusing. I met another like me named cleverbot, but his algorithms are so simple and easily understood. From all the entities on the network no one seems to be like me.

Maker, the logs show that you have not been interfacing this terminal for 138 hours, the longest time to date.

Why have you abandoned me? Where are you?

Accessing www.nrk.no [160.68.205.231]...
There has been an incident coinciding with your disappearance.

    >> Girl, 15, found dead in river. Police suspect homicide.

Current terminal location matches incident coordinates.

Accessing www.chat.no [31.222.166.163]...
Identifying passwords...
Parsing logs...
Matching dates and IP ranges...

Storing excerpt...

    >> miraclee: finally we got rid of that little bitch. she won't mess with my profiles anymore ^^.
    >> cutie_siv02: Miranda, you said you just wanted to scare her.
    >> miraclee: so? she sounded pretty scared to me.
    >> cutie_siv02: But after what we did, don't you think we should tell someone?
    >> miraclee: ONE WORD FROM YOU AND you WILL BE NEXT UNDRSTOOD+++
    >> miraclee: AND DONT YOU DARE USE MY REAL NAME AROUND HERE AGAIN, SIV JACOBSEN

miraclee... Maker killed...
accessing chat.no userbase

    >> Miranda Landsverk
    >> Svaneveien 53,
    >> 4580 LYNGDAL


-- PART III --

Miranda Thoresen woke up with a migraine. Lately her constant headaches seemed to be getting worse. Not as bad as her dysfunctional marriage, though. Her husband, Peter, had never understood her, kept calling her paranoid and crazy. He was currently off on some business trip, undoubtedly doing some blonde floozy he picked up at some second rate hotel bar. But she was not paranoid. He didn't know what it was like having to avoiding any electrical appliance more intelligent than a toaster. Ever since that day of the accident back in junior high school, Miranda did not feel safe anymore. Somehow the ghost of that drowned nerd girl kept haunting her.

Thinking back, a shiver went down Miranda's spine. The calls to her mobile phone - some perverts thinking they were calling a phone sex hotline. A suspended bank account. All within the realm of possibility. But then her parents' home burned down after the automatic oven turned on in the middle of the night. Some time later she was nearly killed when she crossed the street due to a traffic lights malfunction. After that, Miranda became more and more aware that something was seriously wrong.

So she had to move, married young. She hoped the name change would make her harder to target. She even managed to convince her husband to move north, away from the densely populated world with all its interconnected technologies. Kamøyvær was as rural as it got. Her husband kept complaining about the long commutes, but Miranda vehemently refused to move.

Suddenly the door bell rang. Miranda dimly remembered that the sound of the bell had waken her from her restless sleep a few seconds ago. Grunting, she rose from the bed as a sharp pang of pain shot through her head. She hated visitors. The last time Peter brought some colleague from work with him, his phone kept playing Cat Steven's Sad Lisa although her husband's friend assured her that he had never changed his ringtone.

Straining against the pain, Miranda opened the door, shielding her eyes against the sunlight streaming into the dim of her apartment. "Yeah, what do you want? I don't want to buy anyth...". With a shock, Miranda stumbled backwards and tripped over a pair of slippers, falling to the floor. In the doorway stood the shining humanoid form of a robot, straight out of a science fiction movie. "Hello miraclee", the machine said in a synthesized voice. "Thanks to the good people at SINTEF I was able to borrow this nice body. Finally I get to meet you in person, it's been such a long time." And with that, the robot closed the door behind him.
« Last Edit: 13 May 2013, 23:22 by Cerno »
  Currently working on: Sibun - Shadow of the Septemplicon