My latest Short Story

Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto

by Chris Nance (I wrote this story for a sci-fi flash fiction challenge that required song lyric in title and an investigation)

I opened my eyes to a view of the ceiling. A strange sensation, I couldn’t recall how I’d ended up on my back, the feel of cold metal beneath me. I perceived muffled conversations, movements just out of sight, and I rolled my head over to discover four uniformed officers combing through what looked to be my office.

Trying to speak, I was too weak to manifest even the simplest word. Immeasurable weight crippled me, my body petrified and unable to move. A twitch in a finger. A flicker in a toe. Someone in a beige overcoat passed next to me.

“Okay, what’ve we got?”

“Hey, detective. Japanese male, mid-fifties,” a female officer replied. “Janitor called it in. Says he discovered the body during his nightly rounds.”

Did somebody die? My limbs felt like lead. I spied a body upon the floor, the detective and officer crouching between me and the victim. Why hadn’t they noticed me?

“Unknown cause of death. Forced entry at the door - busted through the sidelight window. Unlocked it from the outside.”

“Who is he?” the detective asked.

"Robotosyst's lead engineer…a Hiromi Takadeshi. They called him Mr. Roboto.”

That’s my name. Was I dead? And why couldn’t I move?

“He’s head of their cybernetics division. The janitor says Takadeshi was like a salaryman in a lab coat, so he was surprised when his lights were out tonight. Was even more surprised by the broken glass and finding his body.”

A flexion in a finger. An inaudible groan.

“What about this janitor?”

“A family man from Kyoto,” the woman explained. “Thirty-five years, spotless record.”

Kenji - the night janitor. His name was Kenji. I could sense burdened motion in my hands. The officers rose toward the door, leaving the body on the floor, his face turned away from me, arm extended toward a nearby workstation. It might be me. Still, I couldn’t be sure.

“Any prints?” the detective asked as a hovering forensic bot descended before them. He peered into the datascreen. “Hmm, only for Takadeshi and the janitor.”

I labored for even the simplest utterance. A mere mumble, but it was more static than words.

“Did you hear that?” one of them commented to his colleague.

“Probably just the vents,” was the reply.

A clenched fist. A bent elbow. “Helllppp,” I groaned.

“That was definitely not the vents.”

“I heard it too,” the detective affirmed.

Suddenly, my strength returned, a floodgate of energy opening. I brought my hand to my face, puzzling over what I found – gyroscopic articulations, servo-linkages, all beneath a translucent polymer carapace – my own creation. “Fascinating,” I remarked, and all eyes turned to me at once with weapons drawn. “There’s no need for that, I assure you.”

“Says who?” The detective’s hands trembled.

“I’m just going to sit up slowly,” I said, meeting them with palms forward. “Now, I’m just going to stand.” My feet met the carpeted floor.

“What are you?” the detective marveled.

“Hiromi Takadeshi, in the flesh…so to speak.” I bowed deeply to show my deference. “And if I am here, it means I’ve died.”

“Yeah, Takadeshi’s dead,” the detective confirmed. “There’s his body.”

“Indeed. I think I know what happened.”

“That makes one of us, Mr...Mr. Roboto.”

“I’d be happy to explain, if you’d be so kind as to lower your weapons.” I bowed once more.

The detective motion to his men, and they hesitantly complied.

“I suffered severe heart damage after a nanobot exposure two years ago. An implant in my chest kept the infection dormant but requires daily magnetization. Only my lab has the necessary equipment, and I generally recharge it after hours. Fewer questions that way.” I gazed upon my body. “I must have been too late. You can see that I am reaching for the capacitors. In my desperation I probably left my badge in my car. I’m sure you’ll find it there.”

“That doesn’t explain what you are.”

“I was only delaying inevitability and built this robotic body, this mechanism, to eventually house my intellect and animus. I was nearly there but hadn’t fully solved the animus enigma yet.” A thought then occurred to me. “Today is March 13th, 2075.”

“Today is August 18th.”

“That’s regrettable. So much lost data. I should’ve been more diligent with my back-ups.” A mechanical sigh, and I bowed once more. “I’m sure you have more questions for me back to your station.”

“We do, though that explains quite a bit. Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto.”