2015 Young Explorer's Adventure Guide Read online

  Kouros cleared his throat. That usually wasn’t a good sign. “Mina, what did you have for breakfast yesterday?”

  Mina sensed a trap and considered before replying. “Buttered croissant.”

  “And what did you have today?”

  Mina’s father could have easily got that information from one of the kitchen bots. It was their responsibility to prepare the food for the household and ensure that no two consecutive meals were ever the same. But Kouros was making a point by interrogating her. Still, she refused to be intimated.

  “Peaches and toast,” she said. Mina didn’t mention the half croissant she saved from yesterday.

  “Hmmm. CC78 reports he found croissant flakes in your study room this morning.”

  “I – I – didn’t eat all of it in the kitchen yesterday, that’s why. I was too full, so I saved a piece for after my first study period yesterday morning.”

  “Then why didn’t HH52 find the flakes last night when he cleaned the room?”

  “I don’t know,” Mina said. “Maybe he needs to be replaced. He didn’t get all the hair out of my purple brush yesterday, either. Lousy bot.”

  Kouros didn’t seem quite satisfied with Mina’s explanation, but he dropped the affair.

  Meanwhile Niv had finished his exercises and had turned on a three-dim animation. It would be an exaggeration to say that he was watching it. His eyes peered off into the distance, as though he were looking right through it, instead of at it.

  Goli tapped on a panel. “There,” she said. “I’ve instructed the Randomizer to add a child-friendly play to our plans sometime next week.”

  Mina glanced at Niv, who didn’t react at the news. She forced herself to look pleased. “Thanks mom,” she said. But Mina was already thinking of excuses to get out of it. Tonight’s performance was the only one she cared about.

  …………………………

  Each day the Randomizer produced a schedule of activities. Sometimes they were group activities for the whole family, like going to Manat beach, or hiking in the Dushara Mountains, or reading the same book at the same time and discussing it. Not all activities lasted just one day: some were trips to faraway places. During those times the Randomizer made an exception to the daily pattern, providing several days’ worth of plans at once. Those were Mina’s second favorite days. Her favorites were the “wildcard” days, in which the schedule was deliberately left blank, and everyone could do as they pleased.

  Many activities were individual, or included only bots as partners. Tutoring for Mina or Niv, tennis for their dad, painting or yoga for their mom. The family had fed the Randomizer thousands of things that everyone wanted to do. It drew on that list for its daily decisions, adding in thousands of its own recommended activities, always ensuring variation and balance. New activities, like Mina’s request to attend the theater, could be input at any time.

  This Saturday was no exception. According to the schedule, before Mina’s parents attended the theater in the evening, Mina was supposed to go hang gliding, and Niv was supposed to use bots to design the next version of his flexsuit.

  But Mina didn’t feel like hang gliding today, no matter how optimal the Randomizer said the air currents were. She had started reading a book yesterday and wanted to see how the story ended. She knew the Randomizer would include the book in her schedule sometime in the next few days. She felt her whole being sag at that thought. That felt like an eternity away.

  “What’s the matter, sweetie?” Goli asked. She was getting ready to go horseback riding. Horses on Malakbel had been genetically engineered for such speed that special repulsion suits were needed, which activated only in case of an accidental fall. Mina remembered riding along with her mom once. She had fallen off and bounced right up from the ground, not getting a scratch. It kind of took the excitement away, Mina thought.

  “I’m sick and tired of the Randomizer bossing me around,” she told her mother. “I want to read. Or go horseback riding with you. Not hang gliding.”

  Her little outburst attracted attention. Niv came out of the design room and hovered ten feet away. Dad marched down the stairs, wearing a bathing suit. “What’s this?” he asked Goli.

  “Let me handle it,” Goli replied.

  Dad shrugged and shuffled out to the pool. Moments later they heard a splash. The Randomizer had assigned him a hundred laps in various strokes and at various speeds.

  Goli lowered her voice so Niv couldn’t hear them. “Mina, sweetie, have you started noticing any changes in your body?”

  Mina frowned. “What kinds of changes?”

  “The puberty signs. You know, the ones we talked about.”

  “Oh,” she said. “No.”

  “You seem to be moody lately, that’s why I ask.”

  “I’m moody because I hate that things are always the same.”

  “But they’re never the same!” her mom said, and laughed.

  The sound made Mina grit her teeth. “You know what I mean, Mom! Getting our schedule from the Randomizer – we do that every morning! The Randomizer is not the boss of me!”

  Niv silently stepped a few feet closer. He wasn’t staring directly at his sister or Mom, but it was clear he was intrigued by their exchange.

  “But Mina, the Randomizer doesn’t tell us what to do; it just remembers what we want to do and arranges things in a more stimulating way than we could arrange for ourselves.”

  “I want to decide when I do something. Why is that so hard to understand?”

  Goli took a deep breath. “Do you remember Saldom’s theorem of self-determination?” she asked.

  Mina pouted. Of course she did. It had been drilled into her since she was five. Which meant, as of last week, she’d been told about it for half her full life. But Mina wasn’t about to make things easy on her mom. “No,” she said.

  “Then let me refresh your memory. It states that human beings are not the best selectors of activities that maximize their happiness, because they’re skewed toward short-term rewards over long-term growth. Bots are the best selectors, because they’re objective. The Randomizer gives us balance and looks out for our long-term happiness.”

  “Whatever. I hate the stupid thing.”

  “I know your tutors have walked you through the proof. Are you saying the theorem is wrong?”

  “I can’t follow the math,” Mina said. That was not exactly true. Mina was exceptionally good at math, but she never chose to pay attention during those lessons. “It could be wrong. It could be a trick on the part of the bots. How would I know?”

  “You don’t think I’m lying to you, do you, Mina?”

  Mina sighed. “No,” Mina said in her most surly voice.

  “Then believe me when I tell you the theorem is right. It’s in our best interests to keep using the Randomizer. It will make us happier than doing whatever we want to when we want to. Okay?”

  Mina shrugged.

  “Hang gliding is terribly exciting,” Mina’s mom said. “I loved it years ago. You’ll be in the sights of the hang gliding escort bots at all times, of course, so no need to be scared.”

  Mina turned away, towards Niv, who was retreating back to the design room. Her mom resumed preparing for her horse ride. “I’m not scared,” Mina mumbled, and then gestured to Niv when she was sure that her mom wasn’t looking. She scrambled to her room. Mina wasn’t scared because she had no intention of complying. The bots would try to report her disobedience to her parents, but she had a plan for that.

  Niv appeared a few moments later. His face had its usual blank expression on it. His long, gangly arms dangled awkwardly at his sides.

  “Come inside,” Mina said, in a hushed voice.

  He hesitated. She knew he understood the consequences. He should be working on the new flexsuit. Not doing so would mean a reprimand. Worse, if the suit wasn’t ready when he needed it, it might set back his physical therapy, though maybe he wasn’t thinking that far ahead. After several more seconds Niv stepped fo
rward.

  Mina closed the door and clapped twice. All the bots in her room, regardless of size or function, swarmed towards her position.

  “At your service,” they said in perfect unison. Their not-quite-human voice was smoothly modulated.

  “Teach us about recording devices,” Mina commanded.

  “Recording devices for which sense – sight, hearing, taste, smell, or touch?”

  Mina considered. “Sight. Three-dim holo. And hearing. And it needs to not only record, but transmit too. In real time.”

  The bots proceeded to teach them, illustrating with holo-projections. They even assembled themselves into a facsimile of one of the devices Mina asked about. Mina played with it for a while, and the bots made sure it responded just like the real device would have.

  “See, Niv,” Mina said, “this is what I was going to use to record the play for you at the theater.”

  His face lit up.

  “You’d like to see it, wouldn’t you?” Mina teased.

  His head bobbed up and down, as if in slow motion.

  “But mom and dad won’t let me go with them. Bots, is it possible to make a smaller version of this device?”

  “It is,” the bots said in their calm monotone.

  “How much smaller?”

  “By using laser-based optical tweezers, we can preserve basic functionality down to the micron level. Energy requirements and resolution limits become prohibitive at sub-micron scales.”

  Now it was Mina’s face that brightened. “Micron level? That’s great! Can you make one that size that can be activated remotely?”

  “Remote functionality would require an increase in size,” the bots said, “to the millimeter scale.”

  “That’s fine! How long would it take you to make a millimeter-sized recorder that can be used remotely and that sends out data in real time?”

  “The following materials would be required.” The bots produced a list. “Once these have been provided, it will take an estimated five hours to assemble the device.”

  “How long until my parents leave for the theater tonight?”

  “Five hours and forty-five minutes.”

  Mina faced her brother. He slinked back towards the wall. “Niv,” she said, “I need your help. I need you to get me this stuff in the next forty-five minutes. And make it so that the bots don’t tell Mom and Dad what we’ve been up to.”

  Niv was uniquely adept at bypassing their home security systems and reprogramming bots, and Mina was counting on his help. Last time he’d done something like this, also at Mina’s insistence, they had both been grounded for a week. It had meant one week of not doing whatever the Randomizer said, so they hadn’t minded. This time, Mina reasoned, none of the materials the bots had asked for were really dangerous; they required adult clearance simply because they were delicate.

  “I...” Niv began. He didn’t look at her. “Maybe... I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Mina scoffed. “You want to see that play, right? I know I do!” She dialed up her enthusiasm, making it as infectious as possible. “It’ll be so great! C’mon, aren’t you curious about what the adults won’t let us watch?”

  His voice was meek. “They... they’re just trying to protect us.”

  “We don’t need their protection! Not if it means a life of slavery to the Randomizer! Don’t you want to be free?”

  Niv straightened up a little. “I... I don’t like... the Randomizer.”

  “I know you don’t. Who would?” It was the same way she’d convinced him last time. “So help me get these things, and we’ll get a recording of the play. We can watch it whenever we want. It’ll be our secret. No one has to know.”

  Niv was quiet for a long time. Mina didn’t push any harder. Instead, she got closer to Niv and caressed his forehead and hair. “Poor boy,” she said, in what she imagined would be a maternal way. “You need some freedom. Some fun.”

  She stood there, stroking his hair, until at last he softened. “O-okay,” he whispered.

  “You’re the best, brother,” Mina said, and meant it.

  …………………………

  “Have a great time,” Mina said with her hands behind her back.

  “Thanks, sweetie.” Her mom’s expression was somewhere between bemused and quizzical. “How was your hang gliding?”

  “So much fun. The Randomizer was right after all. Floating up in the sky was… incredible.”

  “I’m glad,” Goli said while putting on her coat.

  Kouros slipped into his jacket and patted Mina on the back. “Make sure your brother is well looked after. We have all the bots in child care mode, so you’ll be safe in case of any emergency. And don’t wait up for us.”

  “Okay Dad,” Mina said. “I’ll be responsible.”

  As her parents approached the door Mina’s hands, still behind her back, fidgeted. She had to fight to keep her voice from giving away her excitement. “Can I get a hug?” she asked.

  “Awww,” Goli said, looking at her daughter.

  “We’re going to be late,” Kouros said, and stepped outside.

  Goli lowered herself to Mina’s height. During the embrace, Mina leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. At the exact moment when Goli closed her eyes, Mina’s hands released the millimetric recorder on the front of Goli’s coat. Self-adhering, and the same shade of brown as the coat fabric, it was nearly invisible even from up close. Unless her mom ran her hand over it, Mina thought, there was no way she’d realize it was there. Even then she’d probably just mistake it for a fleck of dirt.

  “Gotta go now.” Goli unwrapped her arms, rose and smiled. “Love you.”

  …………………………

  They nestled on the floor of Niv’s room, piling on blankets and cushions. They dimmed the lights, imagining they were part of the theater’s audience. Mina, again with Niv’s help, locked all the house bots outside the room, not wanting to be monitored or disturbed.

  “It’s about to start,” Mina observed in hushed tones.

  Niv’s eyes shifted to the right and to the left of the images floating in the air. Every few seconds his eyes rested a moment before continuing their roving.

  The transmitter was working perfectly. It was self-orienting, adjusting for optimal position, like a normal camera. Its tiny lens also adjusted for changing light levels. The images that streamed before Mina and Niv were of startling clarity, completely detailed and all enveloping.

  Their parents sat down about ten minutes ago, and the last of the attendees were finding their seats now.

  Then the theater house lights lowered, illuminating only the stage.

  Everyone went quiet.

  “I...” Niv started.

  “Shhh,” Mina said and held her finger up to her mouth.

  Niv lowered his head.

  She placed her hand under his chin and pointed his face back towards the display.

  The sleek, shiny black bots with their sleek, shiny black arms and legs and their impressive struts and pistons came out on the stage. They had been specially designed for gravity-defying acrobatics. The audience applauded at the mere sight of them.

  Mina clapped too. Niv copied her, pressing his hands together.

  The performance began. Mina couldn’t help but smile. Peripherally, she noticed Niv was not only watching, but seemed utterly entranced.

  …………………………

  That night Mina dreamed that her brother could fly.

  Or maybe she dreamed that she herself could fly. In the morning it was hard to remember.

  …………………………

  Life returned to normal after that Saturday—with one exception. The Randomizer still ruled Mina and Niv’s lives. But when their parents weren’t around, which was a lot of the time, they re-watched the recording of that glorious display of bot coordination and aerial prowess. Mina enjoyed it, despite her initial disinterest. But after the fifth viewing, she started to become bor
ed. The thrill the first time was not knowing how things would turn out – which stunts would be performed, in what order, whether even bots could pull off such seemingly impossible feats. Without the suspense, she thought it was kind of lame.

  Niv didn’t seem to have that problem. In fact, he appeared to become more fascinated, not less, with each viewing. Soon Niv was the one actively urging Mina to join him and watch the recording yet again. She went along with it a few more days, just to please him. But then she realized Niv didn’t really need her. When he watched the performance, the rest of the universe seemed to disappear for him. So the next time he asked she politely declined. He didn’t seem to mind at all. Good, Mina thought. She didn’t want to feel like she was abandoning him.

  Soon after, Niv’s behavior started to change.

  One night, after dinner, when the family left the dining area and the bots moved in to clear the dishes, Niv turned around and joined the bots. This confused the bots, who interpreted his presence as a command to retreat. But as soon he stepped back and they came forward again, he again started trying to help them clean up. Again they retreated. Niv started crying. More like howling, really. Mina hadn’t heard him make a noise like that since he’d been a toddler. What was the matter with him?

  Goli responded immediately to the tantrum, hugging Niv, asking him what was wrong, caressing his forehead and hair in that way he found so soothing. He calmed down for a moment.

  Then Niv pointed to the bots, who had now cleared away all the dishes, and started crying again. It took ten minutes for him to settle down.

  After Mina pretended to go to bed, she inched to the top of the stairs and overheard her parents talking. Her mom had given Niv something called “me-la-tonin” to calm him down. Which probably explained why he’d started yawning a few minutes later. “Just to help him get a good night’s sleep,” Mom said. Mina didn’t like the sound of it. That night her dreams were formless and troubling.