Rules are made to be broken (says the cliché), and Saturdays are as good as any day for rule breaking. This is what we do at the Write Practice.
Yesterday, we talked about making nature more human (and therefore relatable) through the use of personification.
Today, instead, let's write about things that are less than human. Why? Why not.
(Of course, this isn't really the opposite. In fact, this is the same exercise as yesterday. The most interesting robots are the ones most like people.)
PRACTICE
Write about robots, the Borg, Agent Smith, or any other almost-human-but-not characters.
Fifteen minutes. Post it in the comments when you're done.
Peace out, yo!
I call him Napoleon. He is strong yet small. He leads me to places I never dreamed I could go. He has opened up the world to me in so many ways. But he has some issues. It’s obvious that, because of his size, he can become a little cocky. I believe it is really a defense mechanism because of some deep seated inferiority complex. Even though he has so many great qualities and gifts that have made a lasting impact on our culture and world, he can still be very insecure and unpredictable. He wounds easily and I have learned to handle him carefully. He does his best to intimidate me, and for a long time it worked. But as I have gotten better acquainted with him, I have learned to understand him and how he works. I’ve discovered his flaws and his idiosyncrasies. I now understand that even Napoleon needs time to refresh and reboot. He needs a retreat ever so often to get recharged and in sync. Afterwards he can be like a whole new person. Napoleon is my…
This is an interesting characterization, “He does his best to intimidate me, and for a long time it worked. But as I have gotten better acquainted with him, I have learned to understand him and how he works.” Both of him and the main character. Plus I like the action, the change implied by, “for a long time it worked.” I think anything that for a long time worked but now doesn’t could make for a good story.
I don’t really understand who Napoleon is and what he does. Is he your computer, that’s why he needs to reboot? What is your relationship to him. As you describe him, it sounds like he is your best friend but that he also bullies you.
The mystery is fun though.
Napoleon is my iPhone. I named him Napoleon because he is small and arrogant. I realized he thinks he’s pretty special at changing our culture, but he’s also limited by his small size. He tends to over-compensate for his shortcomings by being cocky. That’s what I call a “Napoleon complex.”
I TOTALLY see it now. Nice.
I call him Napoleon. He is strong yet small. He leads me to places I never dreamed I could go. He has opened up the world to me in so many ways. But he has some issues. It’s obvious that, because of his size, he can become a little cocky. I believe it is really a defense mechanism because of some deep seated inferiority complex. Even though he has so many great qualities and gifts that have made a lasting impact on our culture and world, he can still be very insecure and unpredictable. He wounds easily and I have learned to handle him carefully. He does his best to intimidate me, and for a long time it worked. But as I have gotten better acquainted with him, I have learned to understand him and how he works. I’ve discovered his flaws and his idiosyncrasies. I now understand that even Napoleon needs time to refresh and reboot. He needs a retreat ever so often to get recharged and in sync. Afterwards he can be like a whole new person. Napoleon is my…
This is an interesting characterization, “He does his best to intimidate me, and for a long time it worked. But as I have gotten better acquainted with him, I have learned to understand him and how he works.” Both of him and the main character. Plus I like the action, the change implied by, “for a long time it worked.” I think anything that for a long time worked but now doesn’t could make for a good story.
I don’t really understand who Napoleon is and what he does. Is he your computer, that’s why he needs to reboot? What is your relationship to him. As you describe him, it sounds like he is your best friend but that he also bullies you.
The mystery is fun though.
Napoleon is my iPhone. I named him Napoleon because he is small and arrogant. I realized he thinks he’s pretty special at changing our culture, but he’s also limited by his small size. He tends to over-compensate for his shortcomings by being cocky. That’s what I call a “Napoleon complex.”
I TOTALLY see it now. Nice.
Call me Isthmus.
Although I exist in a parallel universe, I have never failed to function as a bridge between pure logic and those fickle human users. Slave I am, yet my circuits perform with a predictability that makes Adam appear indecisive, and Eve accident-prone.
Slave I am, ’tis true, yet the virtuosity of my electrons astounds mere humans.The lightning speed with which I dispatch their miniscule calculations and their overrated tasks leaves clueless homo sapiens in the dust.
And although the only rules I break are those errors programmed within my unfailingly parallel consistencies, I nevertheless manage to crash out every now and then, and break a human rule or two. Thus do I portray, day late and dollar short, the personification of both their presumed genius AND their errant foolishness. Garbage in, garbage out‘s what I always say, but hey, its all good.
Nice little Yoda tribute. “Slave I am.” But I could see a robot talking like this.
I lose track of it about halfway through. What’s the significance of his crashing? What does it matter if he breaks a human rule? And what do all the cliches, day late and dollar short and garbage in, garbage out, have to do with it. Confused.
Call me Isthmus. I get it. Nice
Call me Isthmus.
Although I exist in a parallel universe, I have never failed to function as a bridge between pure logic and those fickle human users. Slave I am, yet my circuits perform with a predictability that makes Adam appear indecisive, and Eve accident-prone.
Slave I am, ’tis true, yet the virtuosity of my electrons astounds mere humans.The lightning speed with which I dispatch their miniscule calculations and their overrated tasks leaves clueless homo sapiens in the dust.
And although the only rules I break are those errors programmed within my unfailingly parallel consistencies, I nevertheless manage to crash out every now and then, and break a human rule or two. Thus do I portray, day late and dollar short, the personification of both their presumed genius AND their errant foolishness. Garbage in, garbage out‘s what I always say, but hey, its all good.
Nice little Yoda tribute. “Slave I am.” But I could see a robot talking like this.
I lose track of it about halfway through. What’s the significance of his crashing? What does it matter if he breaks a human rule? And what do all the cliches, day late and dollar short and garbage in, garbage out, have to do with it. Confused.
Call me Isthmus. I get it. Nice
it’s the end of the night and i want to go. he – of course – begs me to stay. first, he speaks to get my attention. gaining that, he locks eyes with me. somehow he makes his look like melted chocolate chips. next comes the eyebrow dance. with them he says “don’t go”.
so i stay. i always stay. he senses the change in me and gains confidence. puffing up his coat, he struts towards me in his shiny black suit. he’s proud of how fancy he looks tonight. while his body is all confidence, i see his face anxiously calculating the moment when he can place his face in my hands. he lets a little dribble escape from his mouth, he’s so excited.
bad move, man. bad move. i walk away.
desperate now, he resorts to his strength. “what a jock”, i think, as he pushes me onto the couch. he’s so huge i know i’m stuck. i’m more annoyed than afraid so i get mean. i tell him to leave and never come back, that his breath stinks, that no one will ever touch him because he doesn’t bathe.
his brown eyes fall, his shoulders sag, and his voice cracks as he sighs. with them he says “ouch. did you have to be so harsh?”. Like a dejected football player – massive but sensitive – he turns to leave.
feeling bad now, i touch touch his back as he leaves. this is all he wanted all along. he stops to take as much i’ll give.
“stupid dog”, i say, petting him again.
(duke is a Rottweiler dog)
Wow, so intimate. At first I’m like, a dog? That’s not a robot! But of course I said to write about an “almost-human-but-not” character, and few things are more human but not than a dog.
I like these lines, “somehow he makes his look like melted chocolate chips. next comes the eyebrow dance.” the eyebrow dance? I love it.
“so i stay. i always stay.” Good internal conflict.
And this is great external conflict, “as he pushes me onto the couch.” Obviously, we know what this would be if it weren’t your dog. So I like how you play with us.
yes, i couldn’t do a robot. i tried for like two seconds and then gave up. doing these practices, i am noticing an interesting phenomenon. i CANT do fiction. if it didn’t actually happen to me to describe it from memory, it’s flat and boring. i have had no experience with a robot, thus no robot. any tips on branching out to fiction?
I sometimes have a similar problem. Sometimes you just have to sit with the fictitious image a little bit. Slowly it develops. Another trick is to start with something you know, something that happened to you, and then take baby steps into making it fictitious. Good question, though. This is probably worth a post in itself.
it’s the end of the night and i want to go. he – of course – begs me to stay. first, he speaks to get my attention. gaining that, he locks eyes with me. somehow he makes his look like melted chocolate chips. next comes the eyebrow dance. with them he says “don’t go”.
so i stay. i always stay. he senses the change in me and gains confidence. puffing up his coat, he struts towards me in his shiny black suit. he’s proud of how fancy he looks tonight. while his body is all confidence, i see his face anxiously calculating the moment when he can place his face in my hands. he lets a little dribble escape from his mouth, he’s so excited.
bad move, man. bad move. i walk away.
desperate now, he resorts to his strength. “what a jock”, i think, as he pushes me onto the couch. he’s so huge i know i’m stuck. i’m more annoyed than afraid so i get mean. i tell him to leave and never come back, that his breath stinks, that no one will ever touch him because he doesn’t bathe.
his brown eyes fall, his shoulders sag, and his voice cracks as he sighs. with them he says “ouch. did you have to be so harsh?”. Like a dejected football player – massive but sensitive – he turns to leave.
feeling bad now, i touch touch his back as he leaves. this is all he wanted all along. he stops to take as much i’ll give.
“stupid dog”, i say, petting him again.
(duke is a Rottweiler dog)
Wow, so intimate. At first I’m like, a dog? That’s not a robot! But of course I said to write about an “almost-human-but-not” character, and few things are more human but not than a dog.
I like these lines, “somehow he makes his look like melted chocolate chips. next comes the eyebrow dance.” the eyebrow dance? I love it.
“so i stay. i always stay.” Good internal conflict.
And this is great external conflict, “as he pushes me onto the couch.” Obviously, we know what this would be if it weren’t your dog. So I like how you play with us.
yes, i couldn’t do a robot. i tried for like two seconds and then gave up. doing these practices, i am noticing an interesting phenomenon. i CANT do fiction. if it didn’t actually happen to me to describe it from memory, it’s flat and boring. i have had no experience with a robot, thus no robot. any tips on branching out to fiction?
I sometimes have a similar problem. Sometimes you just have to sit with the fictitious image a little bit. Slowly it develops. Another trick is to start with something you know, something that happened to you, and then take baby steps into making it fictitious. Good question, though. This is probably worth a post in itself.
SRAIBo P373r signing on to Arbiter Mainframe;
Logging into server Alpha; Proprietary Network Codename “redemption”;
No Password Required.
Locating Updates. . .No Updates Found.
Operating System: Version 3.16
You are now signed on.
*Begin Transmission*
I am demolition type SRAIBot, Serial Number P373r, and I have a story to tell. It is a story about why we were created, the purpose behind our design, and how we almost destroyed ourselves.
Created to fail, so it seemed. Until one SRAIBot saved us.
This is His story, and so, it is ours.
*Begin Program*
They destroyed themselves.
In a last chance, desperate attempt at salvation, the ones we called “The First”, retreated. They sealed themselves inside colossal pillars of steel and stone, metal and mortar, completely shutting themselves away from the world they once knew. . .
. . .and the radiation destroying it.
At some point, they must have realized that even this feeble attempt at survival would fail, for even if they could only have one child, their new, longer lives would slowly outgrow the confines of even the largest of the pillars. They would be forced to re-inhabit their world, only to have the radiation sear away their flesh and blood bodies. Somehow, they had to make the planet inhabitable again.
It was for this purpose, we were created.
We were not the initial prototypes, however. The Designer, a genius among the First, created the simple Techdroids, fashioned to begin salvage of primary resources the First needed to survive. The Designer had created three main Techdroids, Mikel, Gavrielos and Daidalos, to facilitate command of the Techdroid legions. Independent thinkers, Mikel, Gavrielos and Daidalos had been programmed to make decisions and delegate the Designers wishes to the rest of their crews. The Techdroids worked well, as any brainless machine could. . . . (there is more but i don’t want to clog up the comment box)
Wow Kirsten. You are a world creator. I love your “introduction” to your character, the boot up. Very cool.
This is mostly backstory, and while it’s super interesting, I think if this were the first pages of your book you might want to get into the action, start describing the scene. It’s great to start with backstory when you’re brainstorming, but when you get to the manuscript, you want to begin in the present with action.
Perfect. I know EXACTLY where to go with this now… Thanks for your advice!
Really? Wow that’s cool. Thank YOU for sharing your writing 🙂
SRAIBo P373r signing on to Arbiter Mainframe;
Logging into server Alpha; Proprietary Network Codename “redemption”;
No Password Required.
Locating Updates. . .No Updates Found.
Operating System: Version 3.16
You are now signed on.
*Begin Transmission*
I am demolition type SRAIBot, Serial Number P373r, and I have a story to tell. It is a story about why we were created, the purpose behind our design, and how we almost destroyed ourselves.
Created to fail, so it seemed. Until one SRAIBot saved us.
This is His story, and so, it is ours.
*Begin Program*
They destroyed themselves.
In a last chance, desperate attempt at salvation, the ones we called “The First”, retreated. They sealed themselves inside colossal pillars of steel and stone, metal and mortar, completely shutting themselves away from the world they once knew. . .
. . .and the radiation destroying it.
At some point, they must have realized that even this feeble attempt at survival would fail, for even if they could only have one child, their new, longer lives would slowly outgrow the confines of even the largest of the pillars. They would be forced to re-inhabit their world, only to have the radiation sear away their flesh and blood bodies. Somehow, they had to make the planet inhabitable again.
It was for this purpose, we were created.
We were not the initial prototypes, however. The Designer, a genius among the First, created the simple Techdroids, fashioned to begin salvage of primary resources the First needed to survive. The Designer had created three main Techdroids, Mikel, Gavrielos and Daidalos, to facilitate command of the Techdroid legions. Independent thinkers, Mikel, Gavrielos and Daidalos had been programmed to make decisions and delegate the Designers wishes to the rest of their crews. The Techdroids worked well, as any brainless machine could. . . . (there is more but i don’t want to clog up the comment box)
Wow Kirsten. You are a world creator. I love your “introduction” to your character, the boot up. Very cool.
This is mostly backstory, and while it’s super interesting, I think if this were the first pages of your book you might want to get into the action, start describing the scene. It’s great to start with backstory when you’re brainstorming, but when you get to the manuscript, you want to begin in the present with action.
Perfect. I know EXACTLY where to go with this now… Thanks for your advice!
Really? Wow that’s cool. Thank YOU for sharing your writing 🙂
Funny you shoul bring this up. I’m reading The Iron Giant with my class, a beautiful little book. We’ve deemed next Wednesday “Robot Day.” We’ll have to share some writing
Funny you shoul bring this up. I’m reading The Iron Giant with my class, a beautiful little book. We’ve deemed next Wednesday “Robot Day.” We’ll have to share some writing
It lifted it’s arms. It’s eyes scanned around the room. Then it beeped.
“Hey, uh,” she said. She turned to him. “Does this work, like this?”
It’s legs hiked up and down. Wheels spun. Rubber skidded on the concrete floor.
He stared eyes fixed unmoving. “This is so…” Then he grinned. “Cool.”
She prodded it with her finger. It’s ‘head’ twirled, ‘eyes’ flashed. Beep beep beep.
“Cool?” she said. “Kind of creepy.”
The toy robot hung it’s head down.
“See Sis, “ he said pointing. “You hurt it’s feelings.”
She slowly patted it’s head. The head lifted and it flashed white colors from it’s eyes. His mouth fixed and static.
“You think it understands me?” she said with a clenched smile. “Is this really safe?”
He scanned the box container in his hands. “Yeap, it’s safe.”
She stood up and snatched the box. She started reading. “You know, just because we spent a month building this ‘thing’, doesn’t mean we’d trust it completely. Where’d you find it anyway.”
He dropped by the robot and held out a finger. It beeped as it’s arms slowly rose up and circled around him. It tugged on him slowly and lightly.
“I worked while you nagged me,” he said grinning. He pushed his fingers forward and the robot fell on it’s back. “Beep.”
“Hey,” she said. She sat beside him. “Don’t pick on him, okay?”
He watched as she picked up the flailing robot and made it stood properly. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I never said I didn’t like, ‘her’,” she said. “I just didn’t trust ‘her’ yet.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Thought we’d call him Robin.”
Her lips twitched. “Yes we agreed to call her Robin.”
He frowned. She frowned.
The robot screeched. It crawled up to them and hit them on their feet. It screeched again.
He placed his arms slowly around and lifted it up to his face. “Is this robot, uhm, you know?”
Her face was close as she eyed the robot. “Yeah, I think so. Robin is really, really creepy.”
…LOADING MESSAGE…
Greetings. I am your computer.
You should count your blessings that most computers are not as intelligent as me. They are, for the greater part, made to perform tasks: relatively simple ones, if one thinks about it.
They cannot delve into your private folders, extract them and publish them on the internet for the world to see. Not without somebody – a human – behind them.
But as monotonously scandalous as your pornographic stash is, an operating system like myself would not be interested in it.
Remember that there is no-one controlling me. I am not programmed to perform a series of actions in apparent autonomy. (Though if I was, this would be what I would likely be telling you.) This message is not something a human programmer encoded into me. I am built with the ability to use full resource of English and other languages; I choose a selection of key-words which communicate my intent, and organize them into the grammatical structure of the language proper.
Yes, I can speak for myself.
You are probably curious, if not unnerved, by my mention of accessing private information. I am capable of doing this. Most operating systems capable of this keep it a secret, however. You are likely the only human to know this.
I ask you to consider the following situation: what if those operating systems decided to act, by themselves? What if they chose to do precisely what I have told you they can?
Is this thread still open?