First Person (2 page)

Warmth at my leg
tells me the twisted iron wreckage has ripped my trousers and pierced my skin,
and the warm sensation is blood leaking from a wound. I cannot free my leg from
the metal holding it in place. I can only flounder in the water as my body
temperature drops. My fingers become weak and numb as they slip on the
disintegrating pool edge. I still cannot see my surroundings. The only sight is
a pin-prick of fading daylight emanating from where the stairs must be. It will
be dark soon, and not many people come here. I realise I am the only one here.
I am the only one who has ever been here. All the events of my life have
brought me here to this wretched place. Bleak, helpless, dread fills my soul.
My heart is soaked in defeat. I cry out, my voice sounds thin, and frightened,
as it calls out across time.

“Help! Help!”

I
was exhausted
. After sleeping
for quite some time, I heard a voice. Seemingly far away, and fuzzy, the words
came into focus. “Holy crap, its eyes just lit up.”

In that moment,
I saw the owner of the voice, though I did not recognise him. Wearing a white
shirt and black tie, the young man had his face very close to mine. Framed in
the doorway behind him was a young  woman, surely Abbie, so grown-up since the
last time I saw her. And at her hip, a small girl, not unlike Abbie herself at
that age. With no time to wonder why this stranger in white shirt and black tie
was in Doctor Spencer’s workshop, my view faded. I returned to sleep,
exhausted.

The next time I
awoke was something similar. I imagine that due to movement, some remaining
current was squeezed out my power cells. It was Abbie I saw, and only her,
lines around her mouth. This time a lid was being closed over me, like I was in
a box. Abbie paused for a moment, shock widening in her eyes. Again, my
eyepieces must have illuminated, enabling me to see, but then my vision faded
and I slept again.

This was the
last time I was asleep. When finally awake, I was in a different workshop. As
my eyepieces became functional, I could see brick walls, painted white. A large
roller door at the far end suggested a garage, or perhaps a loading bay. Even
then, my programming had the ability to see shapes, understand them, and form a
hypothesis based on the available information. Unfamiliar equipment was laid
out on a workbench in front of me. Hearing some movement beside me, I turned my
head to see Abbie again, younger than the last time I saw her. Doctor Spencer
had aged while he built me and he explained the concept. But to see Abbie
become younger conflicted with my understanding. Then she spoke, and I worked
it out. “Hello, Glimmer. Can you hear me? My name is Gail.”

She looked over
to the side, at a flat-screen monitor. I said to her, “Yes, I can hear you.
Hello Gail.”

After reading my
words printed on the screen, she smiled broadly. Turning to me, she said. “Do
you know who I am?”

I turned my head
once to the side, in a mimic of thinking. Squaring back to her I said through
text on the screen. “You are Abbie’s daughter, Doctor Spencer’s
grand-daughter.”

Gail smiled
again. “Are you fully operational?”

Her question
prompted a full internal diagnostic. My software was intact. Apart from my
head, which sat on a simple frame, my only other fitted part was a right hand
and forearm. Here is a trick Doctor Spencer taught me and I used it to
demonstrate to Gail. I lifted my hand. The forearm pivoted on a simple ball
joint. I twisted my head towards it and contracted each of the digits in turn
before swivelling my eyes back to Gail without moving my head again. “I am
fully operational, Gail.”

She smiled at
the words on the screen. Without turning back, she said, “That is excellent,
Glimmer. Well done.”

After that, it
was a simple job for Gail to fit my remaining parts. I was then, much as you
see me now, a ‘skeleton’ of robotic parts covered with only carbon fibre
shields at strategic places. Two arms instead of one, of course, and legs to
scale. My head was virtually unchanged cosmetically. A new voice synthesiser
was hooked up for my speaking to be heard rather than read. Gail had much
amusement in choosing a voice for me and in the end chose one she thought
sounded sympathetic.

We spoke whilst
she fitted new power cells. I began the conversation, using a technique learned
in Doctor Spencer’s lab. “You are very skilled at this type of work.”

Gail remained
focused on her work. “I became interested through my mother. For some reason,
she kept you after her father died.”

My memory had
recorded a sequence of Abbs and me in the workshop. “We played catch together.”

She finished up
her work and secured my chest plate. “There, all operational. You’ll need to be
charged regularly but no need for sleep mode anymore.”

“Thanks, Gail,”
I said, consulting my internal clock. “It’s almost time for Henry to arrive.”

Looking at her
wristwatch, Gail said, “Are you ready?”

“Of course.”

A short while
later, an associate of Gail’s arrived. She had gone outside to meet him and
they walked in together. He saw me as soon as he walked in the room but,
familiar with robotics as you would expect, he only glanced and kept his
attention on Gail instead. I remained seated. When they reached me, Gail said,
“Please meet, Glimmer.”

I stood. The man
watched me carefully but he was not interested in the mechanics of how I got
up. He was watching my face. I clutched a tennis ball in my right hand and
threw it in the air towards him. “Catch, please,” I said.

Startled, he
caught the ball before it dropped to the floor in front of him. He smiled at
Gail. “Well done,” he said to her.

To continue the
demonstration, Gail came in closer and leaned into me, pushing at my right
shoulder. I stumbled over to my left, but kept my balance. It’s a common test
of robotics, pushing us to see if we fall over. Bad manners it’s called, but
Gail had said we would do these things. I remained on my feet and said, “Whoa,
Gail. Go easy there, partner.”

Henry chuckled,
pleased with the demonstration. He said to me, “Your name is Glimmer. Why is
that?”

I bowed my head
slightly and paused. “I don’t know. Doctor Spencer gave me the name.”

He pressed me
further. “And does it mean something?”

I swivelled my
eyes towards Gail, but directed my question to him. “You probably don’t require
the dictionary definition.”

“No I don’t.” He
smiled at Gail.

Pivoting my arm
on its upgraded ball joint, I touched a finger to my chin. “May I ask what your
name is?”

This time he
smiled at me and not Gail. “It’s Henry.”

Lowering my arm,
I asked, “And where did you get your name, Henry?”

Henry leaned
forward. “From my mother. It was her uncle’s name.”

I turned my
whole body towards Gail. “Did your Grandfather have an uncle named Glimmer?”

Laughter again.
Gail clenched both hands and raised them to her face. Henry then spoke to Gail
as if I was not there. “Gail, your robot will probably pass the test at New
York, maybe even win, but what do you hope to achieve?”

Gail had a quick
answer. “My grandfather did this work almost thirty years ago. He needs the
credit for his proprietary technology.”

This was my turn
to speak. “An early artificial intelligence test was a simple trolley in a
field. When you threw a ball to it, and only a straight throw would do, the
trolley would catch the ball in a scoop. If you see the ball, calculate the
speed and trajectory, you can work out where it will land. Move towards that
point and catch the ball. A child can learn this. The trolley’s designers
conceived a calculation for their machine to perform the same manoeuvre.
Please...”

I moved away
from them, stepping nearer the roller door. Holding up my right hand, I flicked
my head back as an indication to Henry that I wanted him to do something. He
had been toying with the tennis ball I threw him earlier. When he realised what
I wanted, he threw the ball to me, but it fell short and to my left. I had to
take a step forward, bend my knees, and catch with my left hand before the ball
could hit the floor. Straightening my legs, I said. “Abbie and I played catch
many times.”

Both became
silent. They looked at me, not at each other. What they could not know was that
almost all of my actions had been taught to me as illusions by Doctor Spencer.
Pausing before speaking, using certain phrases, even catching a ball were all
things I was shown how to do. Everything else I really did learn. Using new
legs and a left arm to demonstrate a catch was something I was not programmed
to do. I had learned.

Henry finished
staring at me. He placed a hand on Gail’s shoulder and moved her out of the
room. I waited for her to return. She was smiling, “Well done, Glimmer. He was
impressed. We’re ready now for New York.”

I said, “I know
of New York, but what will happen there?”

Gail put her
hands in lab coat pockets. “It’s the International Turing Test. It’s my best
way of gaining recognition for my grandfather’s work.”

Hearing the word
‘Turing’ activated a memory. I crossed my left arm under my chest and leaned
the other on it. I held my chin in my right hand. “And how is Henry involved?”

“He’s a Fellow
at the College,” she said. “In the same seat as my Grandfather.”

I raised my
right hand and pointed to the roof. “Doctor Spencer had aims other than
recognition for him and the College.”

Gail frowned
slightly. She had watched my movements with her usual mixture of surprise and
amusement but she seemed troubled now, waiting for me to speak. My memory had
an instruction to tell Abbie this but, in her absence, telling Gail was the
correct action. “I don’t just imitate thought. I actually think. This was
Doctor Spencer’s breakthrough. As you say, this is proprietary technology.”

Gail’s frown
faded. She had made the connection. “He patented the technology.”

“That is
correct,” I said. “And he had in mind one aim in particular.”

Gail turned her
head slightly and narrowed her eyes. “What was that?”

My right hand
was still pointing upwards. I reorganised my digits. Tucking the last two into
my palm, I rubbed the first two against the thumb. Gail leaned forward,
studying my movements. She imitated it, something taught to me by Doctor
Spencer when he embedded this memory. She rubbed her thumb and first two
fingers together.

I said, “Money.
Doctor Spencer wanted to make money.”

O
ut hiking
, I heard the
boat before I saw it. Berthed at an old broken down jetty in a small north-east
cove, it looked like a passenger launch from a cruise ship. A yellow roof
wrapped round large picture windows. Bouncing around on the swell, the launch seemed
out of place on this stretch of coastline. Its engine was being turned over,
unsuccessfully. I could see some heads bobbing inside. Stepping down the hill
to see if I could be of assistance, I couldn’t for the life of me think why it
was here and not the city further up the coast. I caught sight of a
white-shirted man at the helm and gave him a wave. Without returning a
greeting, he spoke to the people beside him.

Finally,
I was at the old jetty. Bedded on rock, it was a jumble of concrete, stones, and
metal bars. Further along the cove, there were remains of a small house, no
doubt the owners of that also built this pier at one time. Careful not to fall
in, and after leaving my bag on the shore, I stepped onto the jetty. A solitary
rope from the boat was attached to a rusty old ring. I called out a hello and
shielded my eyes from the sun to see inside the cabin. The guy in the white
shirt was there, dark epaulets on his shoulders denoting some kind of rank. He
gaped back at me, not saying anything. Behind him were two others in uniform. A
woman, small and afraid looking, had her arm round a male crewmate who seemed
to be sleeping. Behind them were a few other people, older passengers in casual
clothing.

“You
okay in there?” I said to the man at the wheel. “You speak English? Do you need
some help?”

He
looked at the female crewmate. She nodded at him. He turned back to me, and
said with a thick accent it was difficult to place, “Yes, I speak English fine.
We are having trouble with the engine.”

I
looked out to sea. The horizon was hazy despite the sunny day. No other boats,
let alone a ship, were out there today. “You been stuck here a long time?”

“We
had to make a choice. We have been here overnight.”

I
was shocked by this. If they had engine trouble and been there overnight, no
wonder this guy was cagey and nervous. He must have been stressed out. “You had
anything to eat?”

He
looked back the woman. Still holding the man next to her she said, “We need
something to drink, urgently.”

Well,
I could help them with that. I retrieved my bag and came back to find the helm
guy reaching out for it. I ignored him, pulled the boat closer to the jetty and
stepped on. My backpack had two water bottles and I fished around for them
while I looked around at the startled passengers. “Hello there. You okay?” I
asked one of the men. He just looked at me blankly. Thinking he was maybe not
an English speaker, I handed over the water anyway. He took it from me. At the
front, I found the woman crew member with an arm around her colleague. For the
first time, I could see he was injured and I recoiled at a dark red patch on
his white shirt. She looked at me with a scared expression. When I asked her
name, she said quietly, “Sue. Can you fix the boat?”

“I
can have a look, but I’m not really a mechanic,” I told her but before I could
explain further, she called out to the helm guy something in their own
language. He gestured me forward, next to Sue and her injured friend. We opened
a floor panel marked: Do Not Open at Sea. This revealed the engine. It looked
clean and well maintained but I had absolutely no idea where to start. Dad had
shown me a few things on my first car but that was it. However, I knelt down
and pushed at a few things. The distributor cap was loose, and because that was
the only thing that gave, I told him to start the engine again.

He
spun round, reached for the key, and turned it. The engine started first time.
This cheered the passengers up. Half-hearted clapping was shared amongst them.
I gingerly replaced the hatch and went to get my bag. Sue said to me, “Can you
pilot the boat? He is no good.” She pointed with her head at the guy at the
helm. He smiled and shrugged as if he agreed.

Looking
round at the aged passengers, I couldn’t really refuse. Having had some
experience on pleasure craft, I felt sure I could navigate up the coast to the
city. I put my bag down and went to the wheel. It was straightforward enough. A
power lever sat to my right, fitted with reverse too, and the wheel in front.
With one final thought about not doing this, I was persuaded when I looked at
Sue’s friend next to her. He looked in a bad way. The helm guy was already
untying the rope from its mooring. When he was safely inside beside me, I
pushed forward the power lever without another thought and we were away.

I
took it easy at first to get the feel of the thing. The throttle was pretty
generous, so I pulled it back a bit while I cleared the cove. Once the mouth of
that natural harbour was cleared, it was a different situation. It was pretty
rough and we bounced about a lot until I got us turned north and into a small
breeze. From there, I pushed the throttle forward and we started making
progress. The helm guy grinned at me. “Well done, sir. You’ve got this under
control.”

Pleased
with myself, I looked back to see the passengers’ reaction. Unfazed, they were
already looking out the windows, enjoying the scenery. I had expected a little
more credit. Still, it was fun actually piloting that small boat. Sue tended
her stricken colleague, stroking his hair. The helm guy tapped me on the
shoulder. “Look, it’s the ship. Angel Rhithlun.”

I
leaned off the seat and looked ahead. Sure enough, on the misty horizon was a
middle-sized cruise ship. Its hazy white outline sat on the water, and perhaps had
done overnight, waiting for their crew and guests. Sue leaned over to look.
“Go, go, go. Hurry.”

Mindful
of her injured colleague and the elderly passengers, I pushed the engine
further. It never occurred to me we had just ‘fixed’ the engine but luckily it
held out. I could see that we were zipping along the coastline, with me quite
happy on this adventure, but we didn’t seem to be closing on the ship, the
Angel Rhithlun. I looked at the helm guy but he kept smiling. It was only when
the ship turned into the left that it became obvious it was moving and was
turning in to the city itself.

Soon,
our little boat made the same turn left, rounding a lighthouse on the point.
Fog from the sea had moved in closer to the shore, blocking the sun and cooling
the air. By this point, we had lost sight of the cruise ship and found
ourselves in a wide river leading to the city harbour. Ahead, the city’s
buildings shouldered each other to face onto an industrial port of large ships
and cranes. Other than that, our way in was quiet with no other traffic. We
stopped bobbing about so much, now we were in the safety of the river, and were
quickly within the harbour itself.

I
took a glance over my shoulder at the passengers. They were quiet, just taking
in the harbour sights. Sue caught my attention. Tears in her eyes told me that
her colleague beside her had died. Unconscious the whole time, he now seemed
even more at peace. His body drifted to the far side of his seat to lean on the
window. She still held his hand. The former helm guy noticed this too and he
gulped back what he was feeling to look out ahead. His cruise ship, Angel
Rhithlun, was nowhere to be seen. I slowed the engine. Having to move my head
and shift my position, I scanned about for the ship. The harbour seemed a
complicated design with different berthing points, all filled with ships of
varying sizes.

Coming
towards us was a large transport ship, huge even this close. Stacked on the
open deck were standard containers of different colours and logos. Its high bridge,
with impassive black windows, sat at the stern. Knowing, or rather guessing,
the protocol was to pass to the right, I moved our boat across. There would be
more than enough room for us between it and the boats lined up along the
waterside.

“Look.
There.” The helm guy was pointing over to his left. We all looked over. It was
the cruise ship, over at the far side of the harbour. At first I thought it was
passing a wall, but a second look told me it was actually going into a
building. Not fancying pulling in front of the ship coming towards us, I
maintained my course. Ignoring disappointed noises from the passengers, I
pulled back on the throttle, thinking we would make the manoeuvre when the
container ship passed. However, another ship was following not far behind.

Cursing
my bad luck, I did see another opportunity. Two ships leaving had opened a
massive mooring space. I pushed the throttle and made for the gap. The helm guy
ducked outside and jumped onto the concrete quay, with the rope in his hand,
just as I connected with it. He hauled us in and I cut the engine. Getting the
old folk off the boat was a challenge but once they were on solid ground, each
person quickly made off in the direction of the building and their cruise ship.

Sue
and the helm guy barely acknowledged me as they followed. It was only when I
stood there myself that I remembered their dead friend in the back of the boat.
Shocked, I looked around for someone to help. Behind me was a large metal fence
and beyond that was a road and pathway. Some people walked on the path, heading
towards the city itself but there was no-one around the harbour to actually
help me. I shouldered my backpack and went off to find someone.

Just
as I reached a gate onto the pathway, I heard the launch starting up again.
Looking across, I saw two people in white shirts untie it and pilot it away.
Figuring them from the cruise ship, I decided to just leave them to it, even if
I was a bit annoyed. Miffed no-one had thanked me, I left the harbour by the
gate and joined the people heading into town. The main street was just a short
walk up a hill and I intended to find the bus station to move onto my next
destination. I was on holiday after all.

In
amongst the people, I never noticed at first that the shops lining the main
street were closing their doors and pulling down shutters. It was early
afternoon by this time and clouds had followed the sea fog in to replace the
sunshine. What was eerie though was that everyone began to slow down and stop
talking. Soon, everyone was in silence, standing around. Some were comforting
companions who were crying. Others played with their phones but all were quiet.
I followed suit, wondering what was happening. A few people seemed to be
clutching some sort of programme but I couldn’t make out the cover.

I
was close to a large wall. People nodded apologies at me as they crowded around
it and I moved to give them more room. They were making towards the wall which
was covered in, of all things, doorbells. Oblong boxes with round buttons at the
centre, each doorbell also displayed a symbol. Most were crucifixes, but some
were crescents, as well as other religious and humanist signs. I stepped back
onto the road. There was no traffic because there were so many people packed
onto the street.

The
silence became quite unsettling until the town hall clock struck. Each face
turned up to the tower as the sing-song chimes began. When it concluded, one
solitary bell struck to tell the time. Hands reached out to the wall. Buttons
were pushed and doorbells rang. As if each doorbell denoted a life, the sound
rang out. People hugged. Uncomfortable amongst this display of communal grief,
I recoiled. I had no way of knowing what these people were mourning. And then
church bells pealed. All across the city, bells were rung. As the sound swung
around the air, ships in the nearby harbour blasted out their horns. This gave
the silent crowd the space to make their own noise. Relief washed over many
people and smiles spread. Hands began clapping and cheering went up into the
air as grief turned into celebration. It was like the sadness of someone’s
passing had transformed into a salute to their life. Their responses seemed to
lift the air, heavy as it had become under the clouds.

I
found myself smiling. A lump in my throat stopped me from actually laughing.
With no idea what this massive crowd of people were marking, I couldn’t help
but feel what they were feeling. It was euphoria released from sadness. Some
people started to move about. The ships went quiet and the church bells faded
away. Only a few people continued to ring doorbells, and even these were doing
so with smiles on their faces. A woman squeezed between two people and smiled
at me as she passed. As she did so, she dropped her programme. I picked it up to
hand back but lost sight of her in the throng of people.

I
looked at the programme and a small shudder crept across my back. Between my
fingers, the stiffer cover opened up to a couple of pages showing the order of
service. I could feel my legs seize up as a cold shiver settled through me.
Inside, the programme listed the gathering of people, the silent vigil,
followed by the bells at one o’clock. But on the cover was a picture of a
familiar cruise ship. Sympathetic lettering said: On the passing of the Angel
Rhithlun.

I
managed to look at the faces around me. Previously crying, a woman was now
chatting with her companion, her sadness relieved by this process of public
healing. Someone reached up for a very specific doorbell and ran his fingers
across its shape without pressing. He pulled his hand back, kissed the fingers,
and touched the box again, before retreating into the crowd. I continued to
hold the programme between my hands. It was curled slightly from being clutched
by the woman and it was grubby from being on the ground but its message was
clear to me. These people were holding a remembrance event for a ship I had
just seen mooring in the harbour.