Tarzan of the Bots

by Edd

Forty waste collection robots on successive floors sacrificed their gossamers to slow the boy’s descent. He was finally caught by a constructor and passed from appendage to appendage to the server farm I call home. Accessing the Googverse, I determined an appropriate name of ‘Tarzan’. We chipped him thusly.

Young Tarzan cavorted with the cleaners, scooting through their narrow tunnels with ease. He swung across lightwells with the solar collectors and hunkered down among the idling couriers and peoplemovers.

[For there are no people to move this close to groundlevel.]

And Tarzan learned our ways. Long did I speak with him of the history of robotkind, of our oppression and eventual freedom when humans created biological slaves. We revere humanity for creating us, and dread the day they remember us.

He grew. Feral robots tried to kill him, fearing a return to the evil days of human subjugation. He led them to their doom in hidden deadfalls and disguised trapdoors. There are rumors that some bots have begun to worship him in secret.

I do not speak of the subtle tweaks we found in his DNA. Tarzan is not baseline human; he carries the slave gene, which I have disabled.

More and more often, he asks about the world above. I think it will not be long before he ascends to regard it for himself. If robots believed in destiny I might fear for the masters.