Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #18 September 2015 | Page 6
programming didn’t allow him to speak against them,
even if he wanted to.
“Good morning, Adam,” said Aryana with a
hint of a smile. “Did you have pleasant dreams?”
Often, he spent time alone in his room. He
liked to build model airplanes, and in his fantasies, he
imagined being a pilot. He’d travel to places he’d read
about, such as Egypt, Peru, Greece, India. He wasn’t
sure if his programming allowed for such dreams, but
he couldn’t help himself. Something inside him wanted to adventure to faraway places, and he felt better
after each excursion in his mind.
Unsure if she was being sarcastic or not, Adam
sat down and honestly replied, “Yes, actually. I dreamt
I was in India playing a flute for a pretty girl.”
Nearly spitting out his tea, Asher laughed and
said, “You’ve got to be kidding! You’re a bot. You
don’t have dreams. How stupid!”
A.I. bots don’t sleep, he told himself as he
drifted away to India. In the land of lush, green forests
and rivers, he saw himself as a blue-skinned god. He
was playing a flute and listening to a farm-maiden
sing. She was beautiful beyond compare with gold
skin and dark brown hair to her knees. He wanted to
kiss her hands and her lips and call her his own.
Asher was a young man of seventeen with very
blonde, spiky hair, and Adam never liked his spoiled
personality. Never doing his homework, Asher was
always out partying with friends. When he was home,
he stayed in his room while listening to loud bass music. Adam thought he was quite obnoxious, and yet, he
was forced to serve him.
Waking up to the beeping noise inside his inner clock, Adam headed to his bathroom for a shower.
As he undressed, he looked in the mirror and marveled
at how human he appeared. He had a tall, slender,
though muscular body. With cleanly cut blonde hair
and crystal blue eyes, he was a high class robot.
“Shut up,” snapped Priscilla. “You don’t know.
Maybe Adam has dreams because he’s different. Maybe he has a human soul.”
She was just spoiled as her brother in many
ways, but Adam had always thought she was a sweet
girl who tried her best to behave.
Am I not a man? he asked himself as he ran his
hand across his chest. It was hairless and smooth and
felt soft to his touch. He then pinched the skin of his
shoulder, feeling the pressure of his nerve endings. I
feel human, and yet, I know I’m not, he thought. How
strange.
Asher laughed, then bent down to feed their
dog, Mickey. “You’re so weird, Priss,” said Asher
with an evil grin.
“It’s not impossible,” replied Priscilla. “I’ve
read articles about it in Science Weekly about how
some A.I. experience what they think are dreams. And
father always said—”
After showering, Adam checked his mail, and
then Mrs. Valoré’s mail. He was able to download it
all from the wireless chip in his brain, so it only took
seconds to retrieve. He then headed for the kitchen.
“Then it’s a fluke,” Asher interrupted her.
“They just think they’re dreaming, but they’re not. It’s
a malfunction in their hard wiring or something.”
Checking on the head chef, Bosco, he saw that
breakfast had already been served. Am I late? he asked
himself. It must have been that dream that caused me
to oversleep. I hope Mrs. Valoré won’t be mad.
“Be quiet, both of you,” said Aryana with a
wave of her hand. She had been reading her electronic
paper and was disturbed by their discussion.
When he got to the breakfast table, he saw that
his mistress and her children were all there enjoying
tea with hard boiled eggs and croissants.
Adam felt trapped in the middle of their intellectual argument. He was glad Priscilla had spoken
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