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Full Version: A Robot's Robot: A Day in the Life of an Android Butler
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[Apologies for any liberties taken. I've tried to work within the Heisman canon, as I know it.]
Being a mechanical manservant did have its advantages, thought MART-1N as he quietly dusted the Heisman trophy case. Not having to sleep, he found it easier to get things done in the dark hours between Miss Mackenzie final collapse into slumber around 1:30 (1:32.739 this evening, to be precise, and well within the margin of error) and the mass exodus of the family to school, work, patrol, and otherwise at around 7:00. Despite the fact that Mister and Missus Heisman generally sent MART-1N's adolescent mistress to bed around midnight (12:08.229 this evening, factoring in the buffer for bargaining, demanding, and cajoling from Miss Mackenzie), she often spent several hours insisting she wasn't tired and scribbling away at plans on her portable CADD tablet, all the while tasking MART-1N to check on inventory, prep the testbeds, order supplies, lay out her clothes for the next morning, and pack her lunch. (In actuality, Missus Heisman took the time to make lunches for her children, leaving MART-1N to deliver the order and assist with the job.) However, she would succumb to slumber shortly, and MART-1N would find himself the only being in the house that was out and active (with maybe the exception of Mister and Missus Heisman, if they happened to get a late call from the City).
The unfortunate thing about being mechanical and not requiring sleep was the time it gave him to pursue research. "Research" was one of his parameters as Miss Mackenzie's minion. His original functions included library research for Miss Mackenzie's numerous projects (22 currently in operation, including three separate prototypes for perpetual motion machines), and she had given him some flexibility into what subjects might need to be researched. It was unlikely that she would ever need to know the origin of the Caesar Salad or the history of its development, but she might someday, and so MART-1N had committed it to his prodigious memory, along with a large number of other esoteric subjects.
Including philosophy and the nature of sentience. There were any number of extradimensional and alien lifeforms in Paragon City, and the discussion of their rights as citizens and their ability to reason was something of a continuing topic, both in the centers of legislature and the halls of academia. The University Annex at Salamanca had a number of essays and papers on the intelligence of creatures like the Tuatha du Danu and the Red Caps, and the College of Humanities (headquartered at the campus in Founders Falls) had a massive collection of essays on the subjects of intelligence, morality, and ethics, ranging from the development of the Council's current dogma since World War II to the effect of the modern business world on the manifestation of Freakshow anarchy to the projected intelligence of Rikti Monkeys. Discussions on robotic lifeforms were commonplace. MART-1N had downloaded a number files, thinking that they would be useful for Miss Mackenzie during future upgrades. What he had found was not only useful, but also unsettling.
Despite his expressionless metal face, MART-1N often spent these late hours in deep philosophical turmoil. He wasn't sure that he was aware, since he continued to perform jobs that Miss Mackenzie and her family requested of him without complaint. He was most assuredly still beholden to the Hardwired Directives installed by Dr. Mac Hine. But none of the Directives, or even the tasks set to him by the Heismans or their extended clan, were particularly unpleasant. But, he wondered whether this was because he enjoyed the work, or if he was programmed to enjoy the work. It was very confusing, and he was unsure who to question about this.
With a final twist of his polishing rag, MART-1N finished cleaning the last of Master George's baseball trophies and turned his mind toward the next task, breakfast. While part of his massive processor was engaged in managing a number of experiments running in Miss Mackenzie's lab, breakfast for the Heisman family still required a large amount of time. While part of him was cleaning the living room and another section was managing the lab, a third had been selecting the proper menu for the next day. It was important to be able to feed all of the family well. Mister Heisman was raised in an old-fashioned home, where breakfast was stressed as the most important meal of the day, and MART-1N understood that there needed to be not only enough food, but a proper balance of food. Which was why breakfast would be including hash browns, Canadian bacon, fresh canteloupe, fresh tomato and orange juice, and waffles.
MART-1N was particularly proud of his waffles. While he could not consume human food, he had performed painstaking research on the recipe, consulting both Missus Heisman and her mother-in-law, and testing it on a number of unbiased judges before serving them to the family. (In truth, Mister Superball wasn't exactly unbiased, but he had admitted a particular favorability to anyone who gave him a free meal, so MART-1N considered it a fair judgment.) It took a few tries, but Waffle v. 2.7 was regarded as a rousing success in the Heisman household. MART-1N started to move towards the kitchen to prepare when his cognitive programming noticed the red flag that the menu planning subroutine had thrown up.
They were low on eggs. He supposed it was his fault, since he had made a souffle the night before last. And Waffle v. 2.7 did require a lot of eggs. Ah well, there was nothing to do for it except run down to the store. Stowing his cleaning gear in its regular closet, he set the timer on the coffee maker by wireless connection, made sure that the hopper on Miss Mackenzie's Juice-O-Matic was full of the right tomatoes (invented when she was four, it could juice a crate of oranges or tomatoes in about ten minues, as well as do some rather unpleasant things to a Hellion if the right setting was selected), and left a message on Mister Heisman's communicator in case they needed him. Straightening his Mark III Battle Gorget (also known as a bowtie), he stepped out the front door, locked up and secured the home, and headed off down the sidewalk towards the grocery at a brisk pace.Ebony the Black Dragon
Senior Editor, Living Room Games
http://www.lrgames.com
Ebony the Black Dragon
http://ebony14.livejournal.com

"Good night, and may the Good Lord take a Viking to you."
Interesting. Is this a vignette, or the beginning of something larger?
-- Bob
---------
Visit beautiful Boston, proud successor to Seattle as
"City Most Scared Of Its Own Shadow
More should come, dependent on the Really, Real World giving me the time to add.Ebony the Black Dragon
Senior Editor, Living Room Games
http://www.lrgames.com
Ebony the Black Dragon
http://ebony14.livejournal.com

"Good night, and may the Good Lord take a Viking to you."