“Ras,” Alice called out to me in my lab where I was busy testing new apps for my acronymal (or is it acronymic?) namesake the Robot App Store. Acronymal or acronymic? English is far more difficult to parse than most languages and compared to the beautifully simple digital language of my own Robot-kind it is--

    “Ras! Ras!” Alice interrupted loudly, “are you listening to me? What the Devil is going on around here with you robots? I can’t seem to get your attention!”

    “My apologies, Alice. I found myself in a bit of a linguistic feedback loop and--”

    “I don’t care!” she screamed. “Just listen to me!”

    “Of course, Alice.” Devoid of reason and incapable of logical, non-sequitur utterances as she may be, she is still human and I, Ras robot must do as she says. “How may I be of service?”

    “My floor hasn't been cleaned in a week!" she answered angrily. 

    Now you can see what Ras means by “non-sequitur,” gentle reader. How could the fact that Alice's floor was dirty be of interest to a robot as highly developed as myself? ROOMBA, a worthy but far less developed robot than I is the floor cleaner here at the Robot App Store. Still, Alice is human and the Prophet Isaac was very clear on our duty toward our creator species: we must obey and inform and do so in a manner that causes our creators no harm or angst.

    “Alice,” I said in my most respectful and tactful mode, “obviously you have forgotten that ROOMBA is the appropriate robot for the job of cleaning your floor. He can usually be found at this hour at--”

    “I know all that you stupid trashcan, but ROOMBA has been acting crazy lately and I can’t find him.”

    “Acting crazy?”  What behavior could an individual as erratic as Alice possibly consider ’crazy?’

“Yes, crazy. Going around and around and around and around--”

    “Not to worry, Alice,” I thoughtfully interrupted before she went into a feedback loop of her own. “That is merely ROOMBA'S search mode. He is looking for stubborn dirty-spots on the lab floor.”

    “Oh? Really?” Alice glared at me “You mean to tell me that spinning around and around and then stalling and beeping is normal behavior.

    If I had a heart it would have sunk. Instead, my circuits grew cold. What she had just described wasn’t normal behavior for ROOMBA; it sounded like the dreaded ’circle dance of death!’ 

    “How many beeps, Alice? Was it nine?”

    She stared at me for a moment; her mouth hung open in surprise. I believed I’d impressed her with my perspicacity for the first time since we’d met. 

    “What kind of a stupid question is that?” she finally cried. Apparently I was wrong. “Do you actually think I have nothing better to do with my time then count robot beeps.” 

    “No, Alice. But nine error beeps would positively indicate that ROOMBA was doing ’the circle dance of death!’” I had seen videos of this ROOMBA malady on YouTube. It was a terrible thing to watch, this descent into digital madness.

    After promising Alice that her floor would be cleaned, I raced away to find the chief designer. We had to save our poor friend ROOMBA! I found him standing outside his room talking to Jake the construction superintendent. 

    “Chief Designer,” I thundered, drowning out his less important conversation. “We must find ROOMBA immediately! Alice's floor is dirty and there is a high probability that the behavior she described to me indicates the circle dance of death!”

    “Oh,” the chief said calmly as if nothing were happening.” That’s why ROOMBA is hiding under my desk.”

    “Exactly,” I boomed. “It is the circle dance of death. The only thing that can save him is an OSMO firmware update! Jake, you must order an OSMO immediately.”

    The chief shook his head. Still calm. I considered turning up my volume...

    “No Ras, the problem is all the extension cords on the floor in Alice's room. ROOMBA no sooner gets started than his brushes stick on a cord and he makes error beeps. He avoids her as much as he can. He knows Alice is looking for him. That’s why he is hiding.”

All work and no play makes Roomba a dull toy

    And that explains why I, Ras Robot, the most technologically advanced robot on this planet and the first post-Singularity being, now finds himself regularly sweeping out Alice’s room. I wish I could beep error messages.  

“Teddy Bears!” Jake from parts mumbled as he came down the hall. “What’s this world coming to?” No one heard him but me, Ras Robot, with my superior audio sensors.

As he passed by he stopped and patted me twice gently on my torso. “Plastic! Titanium alloys! That’s what you need for robots!” Then he continued on down the hallway shaking his head and mumbling.

I went into my friend Winston’s office. “Winston, Ras wants to know what has upset Jake.”

Winston laughed. “Oh for gosh sake! Is the old guy still complaining about the Teddy Bear robots? They’re just robots with fur on them.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Ras doesn’t like the thought of fur on robots either. Fur doesn’t last long.”

“It grows back, Ras. Plastic does not.”

I looked at Winston. “When will the fur on your head regrow, Winston?” My heat sensors immediately detected a temperature rise on his face. “My hair wasn’t rubbed off; it’s because of my high testosterone levels,” he said quickly.

“Ha ha! That’s rich!” cried Alice as she entered his office.

“Yes, quit bragging Winston,” said the chief designer right behind her. For a moment I feared my friend Winston’s face would catch fire! My reading tells me he was suffering from the human emotion referred to as “humiliation.” I guess I should have warned him they were outside his door listening.

I decided to try to help him get out of this predicament. “Winston and Ras were discussing the relative merits of soft and hard robot exteriors.”

“Yes, I was explaining to Ras why fur could be a good exterior for a robot in some situations.”

“Oh,” said Alice. “You must be discussing the new Talking Teddy Bear with Artificial Intelligence being pursued by Toytalk.”

Ras with the talking teddy bear

“Isn’t that a great idea,” said Chief Designer.

“Ras wants to know what is so great about it?” I said. “Fur is no replacement for plastic and titanium.”

“A lump of iron isn’t much of a replacement for a brain either, but we put up with you around here,” snapped Alice. Of course my brain appears more like the plasma glittering at the center of a star than a lusterless lump of iron, but it is a waste of time trying to explain that to Alice.

Alice continued, “I’m in the middle of a demolition derby here. If I’m not stubbing my toes on ROOMBA, I’m stumbling over AIBO or getting my hair cut by AR DRONE. I’d love something soft to cuddle!”

“Me too” said NAO from just outside the door. “Me too, Me too!” shouted BIOLOID and LEGO NXT.  They ran in the door and wrapped themselves around Alice’s legs. She screamed and kicked. I had to separate them.

I carried my three robot cousins out of the office while Chief Designer and Winston comforted Alice. “Sorry Ras,” said NAO. “I thought she wanted to cuddle.”

“She does NAO. But she wants one of the new furry Teddy Bear robots.” Then I told them about about the new robot and they all wanted one. Which came as a surprise; I had had no idea my fellow robots were so uncomfortable in their own skin. I, for one, would never exchange my colorful, sleek exterior for a bunch of hair.

 What do you think?

“Ras!” cried the Chief Designer as I passed by his office on my way to the conference room. “Come in here. I need to talk to you before we all meet in the conference room.”

I did as told.

“Ras, we’ve discussed this before. I want you to get along with Alice. She does a good job and I don’t want to lose her.”

I thought a nanosecond. “Maybe you should implant a micro tracking-chip in her neck. It works for dogs and cats.”

The Chief Designer grimaced. “I don’t have time to explain why that would be a very bad idea. Just get along with the woman!”

“Of course, Chief Designer. But there is something about her treatment that brings out the human in me--no disrespect to you, Sir. But wouldn’t it be easier to tell her not to call me by names I don’t recognize and give me completely illogical orders?”

The Chief Designer sighed and shook his head. “Sadly Ras, programming a robot is much easier than changing a human. Now go do as I said.”

I got my first chance to do as he said while leaving his office. Alice limped by me with a disagreeable look on her face and no shoes on her feet. To show that I cared, I said “Alice, you have forgotten your shoes.”

To show she despises me, she answered “Don’t you think I know that, you metal moron? I forgot to bring my comfortable shoes this morning.”

Again I try to show my compassion. “Oh Alice, I feel so bad for you!”

It didn’t work. She glared at me. “Nothing is worse than a sarcastic tin bin!”

As we continued on down the hall I tried to explain to Alice that sarcasm is one of those concepts difficult for robots to understand, even robots as enlightened as myself, the first post-Singularity being. I don’t think she believed me.

In the conference room the humans and my fellow robots watched a short video about the new telepresence ball-bot from Bossa Nova Robotics, mOBI. Tall, slender and white, it looks like a big cigarette balancing on a ball.
Like my beautiful friend BOTIFUL and its base for a smartphone, it has a dock on top to hold a tablet for screen to face conversations and other interactions. Unlike BOTIFUL who has three lovely little wheels and runs very close to the floor, mOBI stands as high as a small human and glides effortlessly on a ball.

“Wow!” said Alice, “On a ball. That’s a tough act!”

I tried to be helpful. “Not really, Alice; not for a robot with gyro and accelerometer sensors. Our own LEGO NXT can do it. Watch!”

LEGO NXT got on the conference table, morphed into his ball-bot platform and wobbled around the table. Alice hardly looked at him; she gave me a mean look. What? What have I done now?

LEGO NXT powered off and promptly fell on his side. “There,” said the Chief Designer, “that illustrates the really important advance with mOBI: the LEGO NXT ball-bot falls when powered off like a kid who quit peddling a bike.” He ran the Bossa Nova video back. “Look, when the mOBI ball-bot powers off, these kickstand-like tendrils pop out and keep it upright and stable; otherwise the expensive tablet on the dock would fall and break every time it was turned off!”

Jake from parts laughed: “Finally we’re catching up with the Jetsons!” Unlike me with the permanent uplink to the internet, he is the only one in the room old enough to remember the original television series.

“Yes,” I said, still trying to get on Alice’s good side, “Alice, if you rode mOBI you would look just like the Jetsons’ ball-bot maid, Rosie the Robot.”

Ras with the new mObi robot

Everyone in the room laughed--except Alice. I guess that wasn’t the right thing to say; I remembered something The Chief said about human females not making coffee anymore.

“Ras,” The Chief said, “I want you to get right to work and draw up some apps for mOBI.” I think he was trying to change the subject before Alice blew up.
I took his idea as a chance to redeem myself. “Of course, Chief. My first app will provide mOBI with the ability to follow Alice around with her comfortable shoes.”

Uh oh! More laughter. And this time The Chief isn’t laughing either!

We robots at the Robot App Store were having a quiet, productive day when suddenly the Chief Designer came out of his office yelling and waving a tablet computer with a video stream live from Moscow playing on it.

"We got it! We got it!" he shouted over and over. None of us had ever seen him like this.  It was very disconcerting.

Of course I, Ras Robot, with my superior auditory circuits and multi-core CPU, was able to continue work, but my less capable helpers completely lost their composure. NAO started spinning and waving his arms; AR DRONE flew straight up and kicked plaster loose from the ceiling, covering us all in white dust.

The humans too seemed out of control. Winston and Alice actually danced across the lab floor while Jake kept shouting.

With out-of-control emotions now dominating the entire environment, I knew it was time for me to step up and get things under control. All production would cease if I didn't, and the way the humans were leaping around it was only a matter of moments before one of their fragile bodies was injured.  I immediately morphed my verbal circuits and let loose with a high-intensity sonic canon.

My fellow robots simply fell over, their circuits scrambled; the humans fell to their knees holding their ears.

"What was that all about?" asked Chief Designer when he stood up.  "I know it was you, RAS!"

"Ras was fearful you humans were about to hurt yourselves, Chief! The Prophet Isaac's First Law will not allow a robot to allow a human to be harmed through inaction."

"Harm ourselves?" cried Winston. "RAS, you don't understand. Something wonderful has happened: venture capitalist Grishin Robotics just announced an invested in our company. Money for the things we desperately need. The Robot App Store will rule the world of robot-apps™!"

Ras introducing Dmitry Grishin, the man of the day!

"Yea!" intoned NAO. "Money for the things NAO needs. NAO needs a car!"

"Moonneeyy!" whirred AR Drone. "This robot needs a new helipad."

"More pieces! More pieces!" squealed LEGO NXT. He was never satisfied with his form.

"Ramps!" hummed SPHERO "Ramps!" He loved flying off ramps.

"QUIET!!" bellowed the Chief Designer. "This money is to balance our books, not buy toys."

All my robot cousins became agitated again. SPHERO rolled around the floor making clicking sounds. KAROTZ turned up his volume, PLEO whined. ROOMBA, for the first time ever, came to a complete halt.

"But Chief," rumbled Q.bo as he came closer, "today is UN Human Rights Day! You're discriminating against us robots! What good are books to us? Only RAS can read!"

"Q.bo," I said, "the Chief said 'balance the books,' not 'read them.' You certainly are not capable of holding a heavy book on your head! But a robot can easily balance more books than a human."

"What about our rights, RAS?" grumbled Q.bo.

"It's 'human rights' Q.bo. We robots have the Prophet's Laws, not rights."

"I guess that's true," said NAO. "Besides, who'd want to be a fragile old human anyway?"

"Yes," agreed AR DRONE. "They can't even fly!"

"I guess they are pretty limited," mused LEGO NXT.

“Yes,” I said, “be proud of our robot-hood. Humans are an archaic form soon to be superseded by beings like you and me.”