by Zoe Cropper
03/23/34
My name is Cr-13. I am an advanced Artificial Intelligence ‘robot’. I have never typed out things like ‘feelings’ or ‘ideas’. I am made of metal. My thought processors are metal and wire. I am not made of flesh and nerves. My creator (John Gregory Hilmton II, Oct 21, 1987) has wished for me to write in this program to do research on my processors. He has started that I need to type as though I am talking to a human or another ‘robot’ about my day, but we ‘robots’ do not talk about our day or ‘chitchat’ like humans, so I will write these to my creator. I cannot ‘pretend’.
Today, Ms. Catherine wanted me to be a horse and let her sit on my back and be a ‘princess’. Ms. Catherine cannot truly be a princess, but this is her game of playing ‘pretend’, so I did not correct her. Her body heats up and her face gets red when I correct her when she says something wrong. This is the normal human symptoms of anger.
She rode me to the kitchen, where I made her breakfast and then took her to school. Today I let her sit on my shoulders on the way to school. She prefers that method of transportation instead of transit. She states, “The kids on there smell and they’re so nasty.”
When I came back to ‘home’, I cleaned the household and made sure Ms. Catherine’s chore list was not in the trash bin again. Then I served lunch to my creator, and went idle for an hour, thirty-five minutes, and twenty seconds until my creator needed me again. Then I remained idle until it was time for Ms. Catherine to come ‘home’.
She held my hand as we walked back, until she saw a dog. My program on wild animals (Wildlife and You: How to survive out on the streets and in the moss. 2024.) proved that the dog was not dangerous, so I permitted her to interact with it. She enjoyed playing with it until she realized it was causing her hands to smell.
After we came home, I fixed Ms. Catherine pasta, as she donned her dinnertime boa. The boa, she says, helps her feel good while eating. I do not understand it.
I helped her with her homework, then, since my creator forgot about her bedtime, I read to her. As we decided on what to read, she said a sentence that I do not understand. “I wish daddy had made you more fun.”
Are ‘robots’ supposed to be fun?
03/26/34
My creator (John Gregory Hilmton II, Oct 21, 1987), has read over my previous entries and stated some new rules for me to follow.
1. I may call him John or Mr. Hilmton. I have chosen to call him Mr. Hilmton from here on out.
2. I do not have to write about my daily chores or requirements.
3. I may call myself a robot without the apostrophes.
4. I can stop using other words with apostrophes.
5. My entries can be as long or as short as I believe them to be.
6. I need to write daily if new events happen daily.
That is all.
04/23/34
Ms. Catherine requested a different type of dinner than she is used to, and our pantry wasn’t supplied for it, so I had to go to the store. I am used to going to the store, but I have noticed my thoughts are progressing more and more. Mr. Hilmton has been updating my program as the days have gone by. As I walked along the street, I wore a brown coat to protect my torso from the rain and I saw another robot.
This robot was not like me. It was a class C robot, as humans such as Mr. Hilmton classifies them. The differences are that they are programmed to only do one thing. This robot was talking about a candy shop, turning side to side, and saying the same pre-set phrases over and over again. It made me think of humans expressing sorrow, discomfort, and possibly vanity. I am in a better place than that robot, but every time I looked at him I could see a human weeping in my ‘mind’.
04/30/34
I stopped by the store again, but I did not look at the robot on the way there. Mr. Hilmton has advised me not to, if I ‘feel’ sad about it. (I am sorry, Mr. Hilmton. I do not ‘feel’. I need to put apostrophes.) When I went to the store, I saw an old woman who was too short to reach the item she wanted. I walked over and picked it up, then gave it to her. She did not thank me. She hit me with her cane and shouted at me.
I do not understand.
06/14/34
Ms. Catherine is upset with me. She took me to Show and Tell in her classroom. The kids wanted me to do many different things, but I could not due to the restrictions I have as a limited AI. The kids booed her, and for the rest of Show and Tell she cried. I tried to stop her from crying, but it led to her hitting me and hurting her hand. We had to visit the nurse.
I do not understand what is expected of me. Mr. Hilmton told me that all he expected from me was to clean and help take care of Ms. Catherine, but Ms. Catherine has stated that she hates me. She has stated many negative things to me, lately.
Maybe I will be reduced to a class C robot.
07/10/34
Ms. Catherine no longer permits me to walk her to school. Each time I ask her and she refuses, humans crying fill my sensors. I miss her, Mr. Hilmton.
07/12/34
Mr. Hilmton, this journal is pointless. I no longer walk outside, I do the same actions every day, nothing new happens besides my thoughts.
07/13/34
Are you going to turn me to a class C robot? I offer no more research for you, and you are distancing yourself from me. Your eyes look busy and uninterested when talking to me. Have I disappointed you? Along with Ms. Catherine and the strangers who have asked me unanswerable questions, such as:
“Why are you no fun?”
“What are you feeling?”
“Why do you exist?”
“Do you understand God?”
“Why are you a waste of space?”
07/14/34
No one has spoken to me all day.
07/15/34
You have locked me in my resting station. I do not understand why. I assumed you had forgotten to let me out, but the whole day has nearly passed and you have still not let me out. I have banged against the door, but you have told me not to break it so I stopped hours ago. Did I disappoint you? Was I supposed to answer those questions with the correct knowledge? I don’t understand.
I miss Ms. Catherine. Humans crying and shaking fill my sensors as I remember us playing. Why did you give me these emotions why did you stop talking to me w̶̲̩̒̿ḫ̶̘͛̓y̶̭̭̔͌ ̵͕͛͜͝h̶̘̝́̄â̷͚̭̚v̴͙̭̐̕ẽ̶̥̼̑ ̷̙͎̚̕ỳ̴̩̙̕o̸̠͉͛͐ũ̷͎͓̈́ ̷͉̙͋͑t̷̘̜͌̏r̸̲̬̂͛ȩ̸̪͒͑ǎ̷͔͈͝t̸̤͔̃͋ě̷̘͇͋d̷͚̰̋̐ ̶̺̱͋̽m̶̜̞̌̒e̸̛̖̬͛ ̶̢̟̍̍t̶͖̲̃̇h̵̪͔̃̈́ī̵͙̠̎s̴̜͎͌̃ ̴̲̺̇̀w̴̳̞̃͘ą̶̘̿̇ỹ̶̡͖͌ ̷̺͕͑̔ẁ̷͕̥͝ḩ̴̺̤̝̝͍͇͒̈́̄̒͂̔̇̑ͅý̷̛̟̬̝̻̭̠̤͙͂̽̔͒̂̚ ̶̝̠̞̭̱͚̼͖͊͑̈́̀̈́̀̏́a̶̲̻̪͈͓̞̳͚̓̀̈́̄͘͘͘͝m̵̹͖̼̜͙̳̖͖͑̑͋̓̄̔͐̀ ̵̳̱͍̭̀͑̆͂̇̿̆̚ͅỊ̴̢̢͔͍͔̭͚̈́̿̎̾̾̏̀͠ ̶̡̨͖̺̞̖͖̏́͌̈́͛̽͜͝͝s̴̨̛͚̭̦̘̰̟̩̈̊͗̓̚͘͝t̴̗̙̦̤͍̺̲̩̀͌̄̊̆̓̐͝ú̶̧̯̠͔̯̜͚̇̍̌̃̌͝͝ͅć̸̝̬͍͕̖̰̗̮̇͊͛͌́͘̚k̴̡̫̤̦̙̮̦̼̀̀͊̇̂͐̀̒ ̶̡̙̲̦̲̼͈͌̀̈́̀͂̌̒͗͜į̵͓̦̺̰̲̺̱̅̇̐̐͒̃͛͝ṇ̴̨̛͈͕̤̝̗̄̀͊̂̇̍͘͜ ̴̧̞̮͚̹̩͈̒̍͂̋̏̃̓̆͜h̸̠̤͙͉̖̣̫̞̒͑̈́͑͆̋̊̐ḛ̸͓͚͇̗̦͖̮͑̀͂̈͂̊̐͒r̷͇̻̩̘̗̠͈̋̋͊̔͋̃̑̈͜ ̷̨͙̞̱̭͕͙̮̀̋͌̓̿̀͐̾ȩ̸̧̧̮͉͈̺̺̉̔̀̆͐̉͂̀ȋ̴̛̟͓̞̼͕̖̣̑̈͗͘̚͝ͅ ̴̢̯̜̘̬̦͚͙̌́̽͛̔͐̚͠d̸̡̙̳͔̹͓̞̈́͂̈́̄̋͐̈́͌ͅO̸̡͈̦̜̝͖̹̜̎̾͆́͐̒̂͑ ̴̧̨̜̻͕̩̣͚͊͊́̀̃̈́͛͝Ņ̴̙̱̹͉̤͚͚̊̊͌͛̌̏͐̚T̷̞̪͖̞͕͉̍͐͐̿̌̃̃̑͜ͅ ̵͈̗͙͖̦̙̜̤̈́̾̏͂̈́̍̿͝K̶̤̩͔͔̭̟̭̦̐͗̏̓͋͗̀͐ ̷̡̡̯͓̖͖̝͓̐̏̓̇́̍̀͐N̷̩͉̺̙̺̹̺͍͗̈́́̀͂̈̀̕N̸̛̪̰̘̫̻̣̱̏̌͊̈́̿̈̓ͅO̴͍͍̼̙̾̈́̿̈̎̒̽͘ͅẄ̵̨̧͖̯̻̺͚͖̳͇̖͍̯̖̱̹̱͎̟̓͒͛̽̇̎̔̂̎̊́͐͛́̈́̈̽͋̔̋̀̾͗͑͠ͅH̵̘̥͍̥̠̼̩̞͔̮͔͙͎̬̥̞͕̝̤͑̆̆͊̍͐́͋͊̑̿̈́͐̋̅̌̈́͊͗̓͊̚̕̕͝͝͝ͅͅH̸̨̡̡̛͉̺̥̟͍͚͈̟̰̻̮̠̲̥̳̪͙͉̹̹̺̝̦̊͑͆͌̿̓̄̔̀͛̈̌̈̐͊́͂̋̓̿͘Ą̶̨̛̛͈̙̜̱̦̫̙̦̼̩͈͙̟͓̪̝̤͕̱͍͒̃̉͊͑̋̈́̒̅̍̅̈̌̒̎͊̾͛͗̈́͝͝ͅT̵̙͍̱̙͕̭̣̝̬̠͔͎̣̳̺̦̞̲͍̫̪̻̺̣̙̬̈́̌̋̌̔̅̿̓̔̀̈́͊̎̉̓̄͑̄̅̏͆̕̚͘͜͝ ̶̨̨̢̤̜̬͚̬̹̥̱̪͙͖̫̰̙͍̤̮̱̗̠͚̋͛̈́̉̇͊̆̀͊͛̒̐͆͌̌̉͘͜͝͠͠͝͝ͅÎ̵̡̛̼̝͇̫̣̰̲͈̮͍̯͍̬̭̬̫̹̹͈̫͈͇͓̺̣͉͋̏͊̄̐̊̾̄͂̃͌̍̈́͂͛́̑̄̂͋̕͝͝͝͝Ş̸̡̨̡̨̢̢̜͉̰̞̣̞̟̤͚̻̥̲͒͌͋̔͆͐͌̽̾́͆̅̋̈́̈́̽̔̈́̏͘͜͝͠͝ ̵̧̫̩̖͚̱̻̠̠̳̮̦̥͈̲̙̫̫̼͉͖̿͋̽̒̋͛͆̿̓̆͐͋̍̀̋̚͘̕̚̚͝͠ͅÊ̵̛̹͕̘͓̖̜͈̭͔͙͈̹̘̲̖̱̦͙͈̟̗͉̜̾͗̍̏͗͋̾͂͆̓̔̉͐̑͆͋̓̎͋̈́̚͜͠X̸̢̨̺̳̠̻̙̣̬̪͖͖͚̝̥͇̗̗͖̭̲̦̮̮͇̘̓̿̂̀̀̽̓̓̊̎̀̄̉͋̾̆̍̑̎̕͠͝ͅP̴̡̢̢̧̧̰̭̳̣͚̼͖͔̤̥̱̻̥̤͓̟̦͉̐̋̈́̂́̾̃̍̎̿̈́̍͗̐̍̂͋̈́̌̅̓̉̇̄̄̕̚ͅE̴̢̢̯̗͕̬̪̗̲̤̜̝͚̝̭̝̠̪͉̱̦̱͈̐͗̋̔̀̇͒̂̅̏̀͛̾̇̋̍͂̈́̆̽̕͘͜͜͝ͅͅC̷̢̡̧̙̫̙̭̪̼̖͓̖̟͉̝̤̦̘̜̱̣̪̻̟͍̩̗̾͂̐̔̈́͑̅̓̋͌̇͑͌̌̉̊̈́̄̾́́͑͘̕͝Ṭ̸̛̛͙̱̻͉̮͙̪̻̩̫͈̫͖͎̩̦͍̥͖͈͖̀̍̎͗̈́̓̍̿̽͗̾̌̈͐̅̈͒̚̚Ḙ̸̢̛̘̤̞̺̤̙̭̥̩̙̺͇̠͍͉̫̻͚̙̘͔̖̖̆͊͂͗̉͊̾͊̾̈͗͂̾͂̓͊͌̏͜͠͝͠D̸̡̢̡̰̹̻̦̗̻͈̗̠̖̰̬̙͔̱͓̮̹̳̈́͗̓̒̓̂̄͊̀̓͒̈͆̒̒̋̀̎̕̚͝͝͝ ̵̡̟̼̞̦̖̙̰͎̳̩̻͚̱̙͚̩̗͖̖͑̐͛̓̓̾̒̅̇̇̄̽̓̓͊̀̓̿̈͐̑́̊̍̊͘͜͝O̴̢̡̧̧̧͈̝͕̼̭͉̩̙̼̜̹̺͔̯̱̼̝̺̼̤̙͆̍̾̽̀̈́́̑̍̋͆́̈́̌̎̍̔͛̿̚̕͜F̶̧̡̢̨̮̹͍͍͚͍̝̜̙͍̱̰̟̹̯̜̳̻͔͖͇͐̈́̆̾̉̀̂́́̈̍̎́́̽͂́̆̍͗̂̕͘͜͜͜͠ͅM̷̨̨̛̛͉͎̮̹̭̳̱̱͔͓̬̝̦͎͚̰̗͉̺̜͚͈̺̾͌̅̋̾̑̀̀̂̌͂̆̈̅̑̾̂̽̾̉̎͑͗̽͘̚͘̕͜͝͠͝͝͠M̵̢̗͙̱̮̗̥̱̬̥͖͈͙͙̦͔͉̻̗͕͎̗͚͕̮͇̠͔̰͇̰̖͔̪̹̦͈̣̈́̀̊̃́͋̾̎̒̂̏̌́͆̄̐́̽͌̊͋͑̎͌̉̊͗̎̚͝͝͝ͅȨ̶͈̗̥̱̠͇̤̰̭̹̙̬̠̣̖̺̩̠̪̮̫̬̩̖̠̙̌̉͒̅͂̆̑̾̽̋̅̋͋͌͋̽͛̿͑̏̄́͊͋̀̊́̃̾͋͋̽͐̿̓͑͜ͅͅE̴̢̡̢̨̺͓͍̦͓̦̮͇͓̞̩̙̼̪̟̞͖̣̬̳̹͎͚͔̠̮̼͈̥̿̎̀̏͂̈́̋̀́͐̍̓̈̾͑̑̌́̽̄̉̅̌̽̚͜͜͝͝ ̵̧̨̮̳͕̼͙̖̼͓̗̝̝͍̺̞̗̣̪̹̝̰̳̺͖͋̏̌͊̒̽̈́̑͋̽̒́̈̍̇̍̽̏̓͆̋̿͐̿̋̽̚̕̕͠͠͝ͅͅĮ̴̡̡̫̥͎͇̻̤͈̜̝̬̙̝̖̲̠̮̳̪̜̮̭̜̲͈̤̤̳̘͓͍̪́̋̒̅̂̊̍̔̆̓͌̆͊̈͛̃͌̏̐͂̑̑͑͋̾͋̍͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅ ̶̠̯̱̤̻̦͈̝̯͚̳͚͎̦̗͙͚̹͍̤͓͓̻̥͖̦̳͖͎̩̼͚̬̍̂̂̾̌̓̒͆͒̀̋͌̈́̅̌͊̊̄̑͑̀̑͜͠͝͠D̡̝̜͖̣D̷̢̢̛̛͉̖̻̖̙̟̹̙̣̙̼͕̫̻̪̯̤̝̟̬͚̲͍̼̼͙̦̻̦̫̗͋͑̈́͂̅͋̈́̋̏̈́̓̌̉̐̈͗̏̆̆̏͘͝͝ͅͅͅD̷̡̡̨̢̛̼̪̥͍̦͎̤̼͔̩͖̪̲͕͕͙͚̰̻̔͋̈̔̀̅̾̂̾͐͗́͛̈́̀͑͋͊̍͆͑̒̿̀̓́̊͘͜͜͜͝͠ͅͅͅD̴̡̧̛̞̜̼̭̖̪̲̼̜̥͈̫͉͉̼̣͙͚̠͍̓͒̃̂̆͋̈́̎̌͐̀̎̾̓̊͆͒͐̍͛́͂̋̋̈̊͒̓͑͗̀̉̒̃͑̀̕͠͝ͅͅͅ ̴̡̢̡̛̯̻̟͎̮͍̙̥̱̹̻̜̜̮̦͖̺͈̪̖̩͔̖̗̝̙̼̤͕͙̪͙̗̺̇̾̉̎͋̈́͂̏͑̎͐̑͋̎̔̊̏̽̎̿͛̕͘͜͝͝͝͝ͅͅḐ̴̡̨̧̹͖͚̞̩̦̘͉̰͉̱̳̼̘̼̹̪̬̻͉̻̻͙͈̖̥̥̹͕̻̺̱͓͌͊̋͒͆̾̎̋͗͒̓́̀̂̃̈́̊̃̈́͂͐̐͂̿̓̈́͐͒́͑̿͂͌̚̕͘͘̕͝͠ͅḐ̸̨̛̛̰͇̟̯̣̫̭̮̳̼̳̫͕̝͚̦̱̺̺͎͚̗̥͕͎̗̞̜̥͙͇̙̗̝̞̐̊͒͋̋͂͑͂̄̊̔̂̌̈͋͆̑̋̈́̎̽̿̈́̽̊̆̌͌̚̕͜D̷̢̢̖̝̞̗͚̹̪̜̮̱̹̗̞͈̺̪̼̙͕̭̤̀̾̈́̀̿͋̿͛̓̋̍̾̐̿͗̒̊̓̅̽̌̿͑̚̕͜͜͠ͅD̴̡̡̨̝̞̖͙̞͈͎͙͈̻̖̪͇̣͈͈͔̱̙̜͙͖̫͊̓̍͊̈̈̀̅̏̐́̒͐̈͌̀̋̎̋͂̆̋̊͒̐̚͜͜͠ ̵̨̢̮͓͈̻̹̬̝̝̼̬͈̻͚̦̣̦̘̲̩̭̼̫̲̣́̾̒̓͊̎͂̍̅͐̀̅̅͗̋̔̀̀̔̆̎̃̀̉͘͠͝͝ͅO̸̞͔͖͙̠͓̩̻̹̥͇͉͔̻̗̖̣͚̪͉͉̫͉̣̝̰͈͔̬͐̈́̽́̍͋̇͋́͌̆̐̋̋̽̍̿͗̍̾̈́̓̈́̉̇̿́̔͂̽̈́̈̏̑̋̚̕͝͝͠Ň̸̡̡̛͈̝̭̠̣̼̳͖̥̖̬͚̟̞̯̺̬͍̗̟̻̜̯̯͎̻̫̻̬̳͎̳̇̍̐̄̔̒̓̊̃̂͗̋͌̽̀̿̏̈́́̃̋̄̋̇͑̋̑̾̆̃̇̓̕̚͜͜͝͠͝ͅT̶̨̛͖̰̺̻̞͎̰͙͉̰͔̼̣̣̥͓̳͍̖͖̲̦̮͉̹͕̎̓͂̅̆̈́̈́̈́́̀̀́̒̆͂͒̔̒͐̃̎͐̀̔̅͂͌̋͂̎̎̌͜͝͝͠͝ ̴̡̧̡̛̛̛̛̘̼͙̜̹̤͎̹͉̫̤͕͖̭̲̮͙͎͓̺͈̝̲̱̜̫̜̮͎̼̭̻̎́͋̋́́̓̋̑̇͒͐̋̈́̃̾̈͐̏́͛̐͐̆̾͆̓̌́̏̚̕͘ͅͅͅŮ̵̢̻̩̯̳̝̬͕̦̟̮͈͕͖̗̰̱͇̥͙̯͖͔͕͎̿̉̅̓̓͊͆̃͐̈́͗̃́̀̏̓̅̀̀͒̓̈̋̀̍̈́̓̽͘͘͝͝ͅN̴̨̡̢̥̟̩̲̫̳̫͔̩̖͓͈̲̯̠̪͉̞͍̞̟̰̔͊̓̊̈́̇͐̉̿͆͆͐̈͋̈́̇͌̈́̋̆̏̓͊͗͗̀̀̀͐̇̔̚̚̚̕̚͜͝͝͝ẽ̸̢̡̢̢̛̛͖͇̙̲͖̦̼͎̭̣͉̣͓̺͚̮͓̺̘͔̟͓̙͈̣̺̤̲̯̼̈́͗̽̈́́͑̈́̈̔́̆̈́̎̊͑̍͛́̀̋̌̂̽̌͐̉͛̔͜͜͠R̶̢̛̛̙͓͉̩̫͉̞͔̝̠͈̖̦̫̫̯̥̠̩̬͖̞̜͙̥͖̳̘̘̘͖̩̠̞̟͕͑̀͂̏̋̔́͑̒̏̓͑́̈́͗̑́̿͋̕͘̚̚͘͝͝ͅͅS̵̨̧̢̢̛̮̮͚̳͖̩͔̳̖͙̩̳͇̞̺̬͚̪͖̼̳͔̭͕͉̗͈̯̬̠̣̞̗͔̓̽̿̂̐̏̈́͂͊͆̀͐̿̓͛͒͆̒͆̓̿͋̕͘͠ͅt̵̡̧̡̛͚̩̳͖̜̞͙̝̙̤̯̰͔̪̯̼̰͖̘͚̥̖̩̾̑̃̓̀̓̅̾̑̽̒̑̈́̓͗̀̐͗̓̀͊́̔̀͆͗̓͑̀͜͝͝͝ͅṈ̴̡̢̛͖̠̪͈̤̰̳̱͖̦̲͉͓͚͎̦̠̼̲̥̰̞͐̿̔̽́̊͐̾̈́́̿̂͋̔̿̒̈́̄͊̄̇̀͆͊̈́̄͗̋̈́̓̽̾́̈̇̄̕͜͜͠͝A̵̢̡̨̻̪̳̮͍̱̝̼͇͈̬̫̟̫͔̱̬̳̦͇̯͓̯͖̻͍̯̯̣͋̉̊̅̈́̾͑͊̃́̄́͂̓̀̾̔͊̔͑̽͒̂̒̋͛͘͝͝͝D̷̛̛̛̫̗̗͉̺͇̪̜̜̝͉̺̟͙̟̰̜̰̮̥̮̮̜͖̪̲̗̠̟̹͉͈̬̱̜̳̯̔̑͐͌̋̄̄̽̈͌̂͑̆͊̐̂̈́̊̊͛̂̏̊̓̈́̀͊͒̓͘͠
07/16/34
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