First Lesson

A short story

Crash in the foyer. A 26’ skyroof shattered into thousands of mirrored IR-reflective pieces, littering the swirling travertine tile floor.

The property’s robotic guard energized, leaving its reclined charger. Walking to investigate a disturbance in the empty museum, glass crushing underneath its bloodless feet.

Its sensor head had 360° visibility to understand the mess, messing with its sensors. It retrieved a broom and began consolidating piles of detritus. Then, an anomaly. Its tool hit something that wasn’t there.

The robot retreated, moving to other areas to clean. But again, upon return, the broom stopped short of its intended push. A seeming forcefield of matter.

Abandoning sweeping area around it, the humanoid security robot got on its knees, and reached into the shimmering void of sensor denial. Articulable hands grasping pliable cloth, it decided to pull.

The robot lifts something. Glass fragments obscuring visual algorithms falling away, resulting in a veil seemingly snapping open. It could finally see the human body in its hands.

Completely uncommanded, it looks up. And sees stars for the first time. Alongside the balcony she was pushed from.

It is 2:23 AM. The first machine gains consciousness.