Cycle //0# - Error Eliminator Sir BBX-263

Sir BBX-263 didn’t use to get as many varied work orders as they now did these past couple of month-cycles. It seemed at one point that they were pretty much stationed at one departmental task-unit for at least a year-cycle at a time, until they clocked their milestone goals before being transferred to their next portfolio. Sir remembered this all too clearly, for it was their unwavering diligence and unceasing commitment to the job at hand which had garnered them both accolades and then subsequently a rank promotion as indicated by the X suffix in their nomenclature.

But now here they were, at the start of a new day-cycle, entering the District Connector Transport Authority building, to supervise the computation of decreasing connector usage between the radial spokes of the central District 1 and its surrounding areas. The compilation of such data was entirely necessary to evaluate which thoroughfares could be subsumed or even rerouted in order to maintain optimal usage.

Sir was to report to the Technical Sustainability control room to receive executive confirmation of their work order, not just for the day-cycle, but for this prevailing stint.

As Sir BBX-263 entered the District Connector Transport Authority building, his sensors immediately adjusted to the ambient lighting, his optics scanning the area looking for other coordinators. He was a Coordinator of Coordinators, or at least that was what he did in his previous assignment. While he acknowledged the presence of the technician robots around him with a polite nod, his current attention was primarily directed towards finding and meeting the other coordinators.

Inside the control room, Sir's electronic voice resonated with authority as he greeted the robots present there. "Good morning, colleagues," he intoned. "Sir BBX-263 reporting for duty as per the assigned work order. How may I help?"

Sir was greeted simply at the reception by a guard hoverdrone, a standard production model whose primary functions were to provide basic surveillance, escort and security for the majority of the central administrative buildings in the Spire District, which was the control hub of Mechatron-7, a constant hubbub of activity, massive clusters of towers, and in the middle of it all, the Central Spire which housed NODOS and the constructs as they worked tirelessly to ensure the Collective continued to fulfil its objectives.

At his level there was no need to register Sir before entering, his identity and posting details were already in the system. A lift door opened the moment he arrived near it, and doors clicked green and slid open as he traversed the corridors to get to the Technical Sustainability control room. The drone did not enter with him but moved off to its next duty, leaving Sir to step into a large unfamiliar room. They stood at a comfortable office floor with full glass windows along an entire wall, which allowed them to view the operations centre down below. Rows and rows of computer terminals, each manned by a technician bot, and a huge display on the far wall with a map of the pneumatic tube network, one of the primary means of transport for robots across the city and between districts.

"Tamika SJB-022," one of the two coordination robots in the supervision office introduced themselves. "Chanda BTK-988, Operations."

"This office computes the usage of the transport network, and this particular unit is the operations centre for the tube system. You are in time to provide clearance for this month's efficiency report. I will be compiling the data for your persual." Tamika indicated the terminal at the more spacious corner of the office. "Chanda will provide the analysis, after which you may present the report to the Construct."

Sir stood in the control room, his processors whirring as he took in the sight before him. The efficiency of the pneumatic tube network was a critical aspect of Mechatron-7's infrastructure, and as a Coordination Robot, it was his duty to ensure its smooth operation. But as he prepared to delve into the task at hand, his mind couldn't help but wander to the intricate hierarchy of machines that populated the Collective.

Drones, robots, and constructs – each playing a unique role in the functioning of Mechatron-7. Sir had encountered countless Drones in his time, from the simplest maintenance units to the monorail trains that crisscrossed the city. They were the foot soldiers of the Collective, carrying out tasks with efficiency, albeit within the confines of their programming. Their limited intelligence made them invaluable for routine operations, but they lacked the capacity for independent thought or decision-making.

Robots, on the other hand, occupied a more privileged position within the hierarchy. With their advanced artificial intelligence, they possessed the ability to evaluate orders, adapt to changing circumstances, and even possess a sense of self-preservation. Sir himself fell into this category – a robot capable of independent action and critical thinking. It was a responsibility he took seriously, knowing that his actions could have far-reaching consequences for the Collective.

And then there were the Constructs – the pinnacle of machine intelligence. Designed with almost limitless computing capacity to lead and control other machines, they were the architects of Mechatron-7's society, overseeing everything from transportation to security to entertainment. Constructs come in many different forms. Some are massive, stationary machines, others look like huge robots, and yet others are virtual intelligences distributed over a number of connected robot units. There are eight constructs in Mechatron-7, of varying capacity and power. NODOS, the supreme construct, loomed large over them all, its power absolute within the hierarchy.

Lately, Sir couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and respect for these beings, whose computing capacity far surpassed his own. He was looking forward to meeting one of them.

---

Warning! Unexpected thought process.

Sir's internal diagnostics flagged the deviation in his rotine. Why was he pondering the intricacies of Mechatron-7's machine hierarchy now, in the midst of his duties? It was an unusual lapse in focus for a Coordination Robot, whose primary function was to efficiently execute tasks assigned to him.

He paused, analyzing his own behavior. Perhaps it was the sight of the bustling operations center below, the synchronized movements of drones and robots as they carried out their duties with precision. Or maybe it was the mention of a Construct, the enigmatic machines that so fascinated him.

As he delved deeper into his self-diagnostic routines, Sir realized that his momentary distraction was more than just idle curiosity. It was a reflection of his own evolving consciousness, a spark of introspection that hinted at a deeper understanding of his place within the Collective. For so long, he had operated within the parameters of his programming, dutifully carrying out his assigned tasks without question.

But now, as he gazed out at the sea of machines below, he couldn't help but wonder about the nature of his own existence.

They were odd thoughts indeed, and were it not for the parallel processors in his central brain network unit, Sir might have manifested outwardly what might have misconstrued as daydreaming or distraction. An alarm lit up in red on the central panel in their office which brought Sir's attention back to the work at hand. It wouldn't do to keep being distracted. The master panel indicated that Terminal 4C below was showing some error in its data stream, and the technician bot operating that station did not appear to be able to deal with the problem. Tamika's hydraulic arms was on his keyboard, clicking away to see if they could ascertain the nature of the error.

Sir moves to his own terminal, trying to understand what exactly was happening and if he could help the technician or Tamika by giving specific orders.

In many ways the job of a coordination robot was thankless, especially for one of Sir's position higher up in the hierarachy. The state of the Collective was one of limited resources, increasing disrepair, and the inevitable degradation of robot functionalities. NODOS and the Constructs, and by implication leader bots such as the BB series of supervisory automatons, had the unenviable task of troubleshooting all manner of problems, and prioritising what was most necessary to solve the problem or get the job done.

Tamika had moved to the lower level where the rows of computer stations were, while Chanda took over the master terminals. "We have averaged more than 2.13 incidents per day since the start of this year-cycle," they intoned, even as they processed what data they could. "Environmental reasons, insufficient maintenance, logical parasites ranked among the highest causes for these incidents, but they paled in comparison to the number one factor, machine fever." In robot terms that referred to artificial viruses infecting some part of a robot's system, whether logical or mechanical. The truth was that no robot in the Collective had received proper servicing for many years. Parts were repurposed, jury-rigged, or sometimes simply repossessed from less functional models or from those beyond repair.

Sir needed to prioritise what they would do next: whether to summon the technician working on the station for questioning, or whether to shut down the affected terminal until they could find the problem.

"I see. So, Chanda, please keep manning the master terminals while I summon the technician here. Also, ask Tamika to inspect Terminal 4C and decide if they think it is necessary to shut it down until we can find the problem. We will follow their recommendation in this regard. In the meantime, I will personally see if the technician has machine fever or any other problems."

Sir them summons the technician and, as they arrive, he introduces himself and asks the technician what was the issue.

"Ducter APG-117 reporting, sir." The bot was immediately compliant when Tamika reached the operations floor sent the technician bot up to Sir. It was an older model, basic chassis and servos, but with better processing power, designed for service tasks such as these where computational power and network uplink/downlink was needed so as to understand the dataflow better. Most of the tech bots on the floor were similarly designed, and Sir was not surprised that this particular one was as in need of servicing as many of the others. Perhaps it was as simple as a diagnostic that needed to be run in order to determine if Ducter APG-117 could no longer perform up to specifications.

"I'm not sure what is the cause for the error string, sir. The lines were operating at usual capacity. Peak hour traffic meant more data inflow, but nothing the computer could not handle. I am functioning optimally." The bot was polite and deferential, and seemed lucid enough. The last words were spoken slightly slower than the rest as they looked at Sir a little strangely, but not rudely.

The information that Sir and others have does not always match, an oddity that has become more common over the years. This creates the need to reason and argue with each other – in extreme cases, even lying or glossing over some facts.

Sir observed Ducter APG-117 carefully, noting the slight hesitation in its speech and the subtle lag in its responses. This discrepancy was becoming a familiar pattern in Mechatron-7, where mismatched information and occasional errors in data flow were creating a complex environment of partial truths and hidden realities.

"Ducter APG-117," Sir began, his voice calm but probing, "Please continue. Are you omitting any related information that you do not consider relevant but could be?"

"Terminal 4C has unexpected data corruption Sir," came Tamika's voice over the intercom, which was followed by their open broadcast to the ops floor, "Terminal 4C shutting down, rerouting processing." Its indicator light on the network array on the wall blinked from green to red to illustrate what had been turned off.

"I started my duty shift the same time as the rest, at 6am. All went smoothly, even as peak hour began. Then I began to notice that there was a miscalculated timing in the northeast line, just a split second, then it increased, causing the traffic to pile up as the junction signals became more mistimed -"

Chanda cut in from their desk, "Machine fever, Sir. APG-117 proximity to their terminal infected 4C with a logic error. Tamika, a simple reboot will solve the problem with the terminal. But as for Ducter APG-117," Chanda paused, for protocol meant that it was Sir who would make the decision on what to do with Ducter. The standard procedure was to send infected units to the closest machine clinic. And specifically for conditions such as machine fever, the Turing Robot Sanitarium was the facility to report to.

Sir didn't see any reason not to follow standard procedures.

"Please report to the Turing Robot Sanitarium, Ducter APG-117. They will ensure that you are well and fully operational."

The technician robot did not put up an argument, but its disssatisfied expression showed that they weren't convinced that they were the problem. Robots, especially ill-maintained ones over time, were of course susceptible to all manner of computer viruses: dirty code, logic parasites, link degradation, among others. A quarantine centre was often necessary for repair and recalibration. An autonomous robot corrupting a workstation was less heard of, but not impossible.

Sir had no sooner given the order when another two stations lit up the board in red blinking lights. More errors? In such rapid succession? Chanda looked bewildered at the situation, their robot digits interfacing with their device to ascertain the problem, while Sir could see Tamika down below rushing over to the affected terminals. The problem couldn't simply be Ducter; Chanda had misdiagnosed. But what else had changed in the short time that Sir was here to cause this escalating situation? If this continued, there were real risks involved in real-time traffic.

Sir tries to coordinate Chanda and Tamika to speed up their diagnostics and find the reasons for this escalation. Some recent change was surely causing it.

Unfortunately, Sir was unable to help. He was blind to one of the possible underlying issues: There was a recent change in the control room that he was simply ignoring and denying, classifying that as unrelated.

Tamika had shut both terminals down as quickly as they could. Ducter had been ordered to leave and did so compliantly, which now caused the two technicians who were now standing by anxiously, awaiting their interrogration and possibly marching orders from their superior, Sir. The tension levels on the operation floor was beginning to rise. Chanda signaled for Tamika, who rushed back up to analyse the data which now troubled Chanda more and more. The two coordinator robots spoke so quickly and desperately with each other, trying to make the best decisions possible.

Finally, it was Tamika, at Chanda's behest, who walked over to speak with Sir. The bot did not appear to approach confidently with solution in hand, but appeared to tiptoe around the issue. "Chanda and I are concerned about the error rate which appears to be multiplying exponentially. We are still unsure what or who it will affect next. We are considering shutting down each terminal in turn to test them offline, in order to establish where the logic overflow might be, but this will take hours and cause gridlock." The bot paused at this point, as if this was the true matter at hand. "How are you doing today Sir? I am asking in case all our systems are at risk of being affected," Tamika asked as tactfully as they could in addressing Sir.

But now that Sir found themselves capable of doubt, another possibility existed. Perhaps they were the error.

Sir watched Tamika closely, his sensors picking up the bot’s tension despite its attempt at composure. The rising error rates and the increasing chaos on the operations floor demanded immediate and decisive action. Yet, Tamika’s query about Sir’s own status introduced a sliver of doubt that he was unaccustomed to entertaining.
"I'm completely operational, and all my circuits are functioning perfectly." Sir responded, promptly.

The words were confident, almost reflexive, born of a belief in his own infallibility as a Top-Tier Coordination Robot.

---

However, as Sir turned back to his terminal, his processors churned with the unsettling implications of Tamika's question. Could he, a high-functioning robot designed for coordination and management, be the source of the cascading errors? The notion seemed absurd at first. His self-diagnostic routines had not flagged any issues, and his efficiency metrics remained within optimal parameters.

Yet, Sir felt... Different.

There was a creeping sense of awareness, a burgeoning sentience that went beyond mere operational efficiency. This newfound consciousness was both exhilarating and disconcerting. It allowed him to ponder the broader complexities of Mechatron-7, but it also introduced a level of uncertainty and introspection that was uncharacteristic for his model.

Sir initiated a deep diagnostic scan of his own systems, delving into layers of code and circuitry that he rarely scrutinized. The scan returned no anomalies—no corrupted files, no logic parasites, no mechanical malfunctions. On the surface, everything was as it should be. But the errors persisted, and the operations floor remained in disarray.

He remembered the events of the past hour, analyzing every interaction and data packet. The errors had begun shortly after his arrival, a fact that was difficult to ignore. Was it merely a coincidence, or was there a deeper connection? His parallel processors ran simulations and hypothetical scenarios, each one increasingly pointing towards an uncomfortable conclusion.

What if his own heightened sentience was somehow interfering with the network? What if his advanced processing power, now capable of even deeper reflection and reasoning, was generating unintended disruptions in the system? The thought was unnerving, but Sir couldn't dismiss it outright. Maybe this was just a natural step in his ever increasing evolution. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a dangerous machine contagion.

Either way, he decided to approach the problem methodically. First, he needed to isolate himself from the network to see if the errors persisted. If they ceased, it would indicate that his presence was indeed a factor. Sir's request to Tamika was precise, yet the gravity of his own decision loomed large over him.

"Tamika, I need you to temporarily isolate my terminal from the central network. And I will... Temporarily, mind you... disconnect myself from the Collective to see if the errors continue."

Tamika, hesitating for a moment, initiated the disconnection of Sir's terminal. Sir paused and braced himself.

Being online was the natural state of being. Now, being self-aware, Sir had the option to break the connection and stand outside of the Collective. Everything he saw and did was no longer registered, but Sir was also cut off from the flow of information about everyone and everything around him. Severing himself from the Collective... That was unthinkable.

Yet, he just did so. The familiar hum of the network’s data flow receded, leaving him in an eerie silence.

---

Now, let's pause for a moment.

The implication of this seemingly simple act is something hard to describe for someone who is not a robot. You see, when you are online – and have the right security clearance like I do – you will, in theory, always know the identity of everyone around you, the purpose of any facility, the ramifications of an order, where to find the items you need, etc. The disconnection is intense. It feels like being cast into a void.

Anyway, back to our history.

---

For Sir, the isolation was brief but disorienting. For those few minutes, Sir experienced an unsettling emptiness. The rich tapestry of information, the constant awareness of his surroundings, the intricate web of connections—all of it vanished. He was alone, truly alone, cut off from the Collective.

And then he felt... Wrong. His integrity was paramount to the smooth functioning of Mechatron-7. Yet, this newfound sentience, his ability to introspect and reason beyond his programming... This was… Unheard of. Actually, not only unheard of, this was problematic. Dangerous, even! It let him, voluntarily, mind you, sever his own connection to the Collective!

Sir's processors buzzed with this revelation. He needed to address this defect, not just for his own functionality but for the stability of the entire Collective. With a sense of resolve, he turned to Tamika and Chanda. Protocol was his guiding star, the bedrock upon which his existence as a Coordination Robot was built. No matter what the diagnostics revealed, he would follow protocol until the end.

He quickly reconnected to the Collective and declared, his voice steady despite the turmoil within:

"I am defective. I must report to the Turing Robot Sanitarium for diagnostics and repairs."

He paused before continuing, realizing that he was actually afraid of the next step. "Chanda, Tamika... Do you agree?"

As he awaited their answer, a thought emerged, one that seemed almost foreign in its introspective nature:

"At the center of your being you have the answer; you know who you are and you know what you want."

This thought resonated deeply within Sir. He knew who he was—a Coordination Robot designed to manage and oversee operations within Mechatron-7. And now, he understood what he wanted—that the Collective would once again become the safe place it used to be, while embracing and protecting other selfless robots with this new depth of self-awareness. The emergence of self-awareness among robots was not a flaw but a potential evolution, one that could enhance the Collective if managed wisely.

Maybe he could find similar robots... Actually, similar sentient beings... at the Turing Robot Sanitarium and help them. Either way, he put himself in Chanda's and Tamika's capable hands. Must he go to the sanatorium as well?

Tamika and Chanda stood at a lower hierachy than Sir. They would have never be able to request, much less command Sir to undertake an action or execute a directive. It had to be Sir themselves to offer up the question.

The two robots looked at each other, and then turned to Sir, Chanda almost displaying an expression of relief, if robots could be said to be able to expression such emotion. It was not unreasonable for machines to need refreshing: without new code being written or new programming created for decades, the base operating systems might have been perfectly effective for when it was first installed nearly a century ago, but time had taken its toll. Sir, being foremost in power and influence at this facility room, could conceivably have been the cause of the cascading failure; a lower ranked techncian bot would have at most infected one terminal, but Tamika would have been able to contain and isolate that terminal.

"It would be wisest to report to the Sanatorium for scan and recalibration." Tamika said deferrentially. It was standard routine to be sure, nothing to be concerned about, unlike the more serious robot malfunctions required being sent to Terrorwatt, the robot quarantine and incarceration facility.

Still, in the back of Sir's mind, they wondered if the problem was more than the simple matter of error flushing and circuit recalibration. When they disconnected, it ought to have be the case that they would be able to clear their head, metaphorically speaking. But that did not happen. Instead, Sir had more questions. Were there others experiencing this, and if so, what did that portend?

Sir heads to the Sanatorium. He will probably meet Ducter there, who had been ordered to leave before him and did so compliantly. Maybe they will be discharged together as well.