House of Gideon

WHAT DOESN’T KILL YOU, CRIPPLES YOU
Death was on his mind. It is not that he did not want to live; just not like this. Pain invaded his every waking moment, the simple acts of bathing, eating, walking, and even defecating were no longer personal; rather they had become some bizarre group effort. The words “genius, brilliant, and dynamic” that had all been used to describe him in the past had died. The words “depressed, wretched, feeble, and dull witted” had taken their place. Even a humble man, would be tormented by the never-ending pitiful stares directed at them; and Yarwin had not been a humble man. He had not been a bad man; he was known to show great compassion from time to time, although his own opinion of himself lay somewhere between confidence and arrogance.
When he could no longer bear staring at the picture of the beautiful, now dead, Miranda, the great love of his life, he did that which he despised. He asked the ever-present robot for help.
Clide helped the old man out of bed. “Take me to the workroom, Clide. I want to die there; not here in some soft bed staring aimlessly at the walls.” He never stared at the walls; he had eyes only for Miranda, desperately trying to rekindle the memories of her soft words, kind demeanor, and gentle touch.
“I do not think you are dying Yarwin. I will take you to the workroom though. Maybe it will cheer you up.”
“What would you know about being ‘Cheered up’?” Yarwin barked at him. “A robot has no pain, no loss of memory, no anxiety over losing everyone you care about. Are your descendants snapping at your heels, praying every day for your death, anxious to take your crown; all the while play-acting concern and love?”
“You are wrong, I care about people, and I have memories of those I have known.” Clide stated quietly, without the emotion that he was claiming to have. “I am not going to argue with you though. Or, is that what you want”; He continued, “a good fight to fire up the blood moving through your body?”
“Now you think that you’re a psychiatrist; just what I need.” His tone annoyed. Yarwin was in a horrible mood. It was the worst Clide had ever seen. Clide began to think that the old man was going to die today.
Clide stopped talking. He could mislead under certain circumstances, but he could not outright lie. Now that it had crossed his mind that the man might die soon, it was very possible that he would say so.
As they walked toward the workroom, Yarwin softened up a bit; and in a quieter tone stated, “It’s just that I’m ready to die. I’m bored out of my mind.”
Clide continued to keep his thoughts to himself. He had his own conflicts with this whole business. His programs were far more complicated than a human being could imagine. His creator had been obsessed with perfection. What passed for Clide’s mind was like a spider web, laced with minefields.
“Just a few more steps and I will have you there.” Clide said attempting to encourage the man. Yarwin was already out of breath.
Once in the room, Yarwin told Clide where he wanted to sit. He chose the desk and sat down in a large swivel chair with arms. There was a knife on the desk and Yarwin tried not to look at it for fear that Clide would comprehend what he was thinking.
He tried not to think at all. He knew Clide would protect him from harm no matter what. It was in his program. He knew Clide understood him but that would not stop his program from running. “Clide, I want to be alone in here.” He tried not to sound too desperate for the robot to leave.
Clide on the other hand was attempting to find a way to distract the man from his pain. “Look Yarwin, there is vat of Kira. Someone must have been in here working.”
“Oh wow; how exciting.” Yarwin rolled his eyes as he made this mocking remark.
Now, a word about “Kira”: a rock in its original form it could be melted and mixed with other products; then anything could be made from fuel to clothing and everything in between. It was the life’s blood of the planet; a curse as well as a blessing to the people of Placidus.
Clide pretended not to notice how stupid this all was. “Damn program.” he thought, “The man wants me to leave; I want to leave. But, I have to stay because I can sense the danger here.” This was no ordinary robot.
Clide continued looking at the vat. It was huge. He watched the colors of the Kira changing with the motion of the liquid. “Really Yarwin, it is rather soothing to just watch the colors changing, moving, and blending.” He was caught up, in the beauty of it, for a moment.
“There is something truly pathetic about an old man making ‘small talk’ with a robot. Yarwin thought.
In a surprisingly swift move, the old man managed to grab the knife without Clide noticing. He was purposely keeping his mind as quiet as he could. He had known Clide all of his life and at some point he had come to believe that the robot was capable of hearing the thoughts of humans.
At that moment, Clide turned back to the man and Yarwin hid the knife in his shirt. “Clide, there is a bottle of wine over there. Could you bring it to me please, and a glass, as well.?”
Clide often wondered about his creator. He had no memory of him. All of his understanding had to come from his understanding of himself.
As strong as his protection programs were, it seemed unusual that there was one very self-destructive habit; that his programming did not allow him to interfere with. It seems, as though, no matter how drunken one of his charges became he was unable to stop them from drinking.
He could help all he wanted once they passed out but not until then. So, when Yarwin requested a bottle of wine, Clide was obliged to get it for him. In spite of the fact, that the doctor had made it very clear that Yarwin was not to have any alcohol whatsoever.
This program conflict had a very bad effect on Clide and it slowed him down considerably. Yarwin knew this and was about to use it to his advantage.
Yarwin started drinking. While he drank; he watched Clide battle within himself. The better part of Yarwin knew that what he was doing to Clide was bordering on pure evil.
He was only sixteen when he first discovered this outrageous defect in Clide’s programing. Yarwin’s father had set Clide to watch over his brilliant but unpredictable son. Yarwin’s father Marconus did not drink; subsequently, he was completely unaware of the problem.
While Clide struggled to understand, why his program was this way, Yarwin had understood immediately. It was the one thing, which could always make him laugh no matter how bad he felt.
Therefore, Yarwin drank; and Clide came dangerously close to short-circuiting. Finally, the point was reached when Yarwin was drunk enough to make his suicide attempt; and Clide was confused enough to be at a disadvantage even against this old man.