The Reflection in the Mechanical Eyes

The streets of Metal City were adorned with colourful lights to celebrate the Day of Assemblage. According to legend, this was the day the very first robot on the planet had been created. Androids and humans had been coexisting for many years, and by now, there wasn’t much difference between them. Androids had learned to feel almost like humans, and humans had so many artificial replacement parts and enhancements that it was far more accurate to call them cyborgs. 10SION, the tenth model of S.I.O.N. (Synthetic Intelligence Operating Nexus), was an android and lived in a building owned by Nexta, a famous and wealthy company that manufactured androids. Everyone called 10SION simply Tension. She was a brand-new test model—an android of the next generation, virtually indistinguishable from a human. Rumour had it that this very model would soon be issued an actual human passport. Nexta granted her significant freedom, allowing her to roam the city streets alone and do almost anything she liked. Naturally, she had a tracking system installed, as she was extremely expensive, but it didn’t restrict her in any way. When Tension saw a street musician and wanted to try it herself, she was given a guitar and a hat for collecting money, no questions asked. Not that she needed the money—it was simply an exciting experiment, and everyone agreed on that. Tiny cameras were even integrated into her eyes so they could see what would happen. Tension, who had never played the guitar before, downloaded a beginner's training program into her memory and decided not to go beyond that for now. Playing too professionally might arouse suspicion, and she wanted to appear human. She chose a good spot on a busy street, sat on a folding chair, took the guitar in her hands, and began to play, occasionally making deliberate mistakes. She seemed like just another novice guitarist trying to earn a little money. The colourful holiday lights sparkled all around. Shop windows glittered, signs glowed invitingly, and cheerful strollers passed by, laden with brightly wrapped gifts for family and friends. A woman in a purple synthetic fur coat was pushing a stroller with a child. She stopped in front of Tension, sighed, exclaimed, took a photo, and then gave her baby two coppers to throw into the hat at Tension’s feet. However, only one coin made it in—the girl decided to keep the other for herself. Tension thanked them both calmly. After all, she was only doing this out of curiosity, wanting to learn more about humans. A man approached and offered her an open pack of cigarettes. Tension simply shook her head. Cigarette smoke would only damage her ventilation system—and it wasn’t good for a human “ventilation system” either. A nearby beggar, perhaps moved by pity for the girl diligently tormenting the strings of an innocent guitar, threw a coin into her hat. Tension even felt something akin to embarrassment. Surely, the beggar needed that coin more than she did—but she thanked him warmly and smiled. When he had left, she looked into the hat and saw that his coin was worth far more than the one the well-off woman had given her earlier. Tension concluded she still had a lot to learn about humans and picked up the guitar again. Suddenly, loud off-key singing rang out just above her ear. A drunkard had decided to sing along to her playing. He missed every note but was clearly delighted—with himself, his singing, his life, the holiday, and everything around him. Tension even gave him a light round of applause for his enthusiastic effort. Over the next two hours, a frail old lady, barely mobile with the help of a walker, generously gave the “poor guitarist” an entire banknote—even though she clearly couldn’t afford new mechanical legs. Another drunkard joined in with loud and joyfully out-of-tune singing. Some dark-skinned tourists tossed unfamiliar coins from an unknown land into her hat. Tension shrugged and thanked them too. After all, the coins were unusual and rather pretty. “Tension, come back,” she heard the chief mechanical engineer's voice inside her. “It’s time to recharge you.” Tension nodded, stood up, put the guitar into its case and slung it over her shoulder. She folded the chair and tucked it under her arm, about to return, when she suddenly noticed a pendant shop nearby. She approached it quickly and found a guitar-shaped pendant within seconds. She paid for it using the money she had earned. There was even some left over. Pleased, she put the pendant around her neck and hurried home—dry, warm, and full of electricity for recharging. They were already waiting for her. It seemed the mechanical engineers had been watching the recording of her experiment like some kind of fascinating series and were even planning to get popcorn for the next “episode.” “You’re going to continue your experiment, aren’t you?” the chief mechanical engineer asked hopefully. “Probably,” Tension replied, connecting the recharge cable to herself. “Wow, did you buy yourself some jewellery?” the engineer noticed. “It suits you.” “Thank you,” Tension nodded. “I should probably enter sleep mode, if you don’t mind.” “Wait,” the chief mechanical engineer stopped her. “Maybe before that, you could tell us what you’ve learned about humans today?” “About humans…” Tension mused. “It’s hard to say. I don’t have enough data yet. But I noticed that the more they have, the less they seem to want to share. Why is that?” “If only I knew…” The chief mechanical engineer shrugged. “What else did you notice?” “That one doesn’t need to sing well to sing happily.” “I’ve known that for a long time too,” the engineer smiled broadly. “Anything else?” “Yes. I realised that I gained more than just money today.” “What else? The pendant? It’s beautiful. I’m glad you felt the desire to adorn yourself, just like we humans do.” “I gained experience and pleasant memories. I’ll save these files marked as Important,” Tension said, then closed her eyes and entered sleep mode with a smile.