Uris was finishing his nightly paperwork when his manager Gloris arrived.
“How was it?” She asked.
Uris cocked his head to the side in acknowledgment, though his eyes were still locked on the sheet. “Same old, same old. Another quiet evening.”
She nodded, satisfied. “Good to hear.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask, why do people call them screaming robots?” Uris asked. “They don’t scream. They don’t even have voice boxes.”
Gloris considered the question. “You’ve been here, what, four months?”
Uris nodded.
“And you’ve been a great employee. Punctual, willing to work overtime if needed, and the stat-monitors show you really do take care of the robots.”
“Thank you.” Uris said.
“I’m not sure I am technically allowed to tell you the truth.” Gloris said.
Uris raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“It’s… Well, it’s a bit of a privacy issue.” Gloris replied.
“Oh.” Uris replied. He turned his attention back to his paperwork, but only wrote a few words before Gloris continued speaking.
“Have you ever wondered why we take care of robots?” She asked.
“Because they can’t take care of themselves.” Uris replied. “They don’t have arms or legs.”
“Or voice boxes.”
“Or voice boxes.” He nodded.
“And why would we need to take care of robots?”
“Well, some of them are said to be sentient.” Uris answered.
Gloris shook her head. “Not what I’m asking. I mean, why would we need to take care of something without arms or legs or a voice when all three could easily be installed?”
Uris thought about this for a moment. “I’m… Not sure. I guess it doesn’t make sense.”
Gloris’s mouth thinned somewhat. “But if their brains weren’t entirely normal, if they somehow posed a danger to themselves, it’d make sense, yeah?”
“I suppose. But they’re able to reorient and repair cybertronic brains pretty easily as well.” Uris said. “Don’t they need to do that every couple years anyway in order to ensure they’re not developing radical parameters?”
“Yes.” Gloris said. “Cybertronic brains are able to easily be remedied. But some brains aren’t able to be so easily repaired…” She trailed off.
The silence lingered for a moment while Uris considered what she’d said. All at once realization struck and he turned to her in surprise. “Wait… Wait… Are you telling me their brains are organic?”
“I didn’t say anything.” Gloris huffed.
But it was clear that was exactly what she’d meant.
“So wait… If they have organic brains-”
“-hypothetically speaking!” Gloris interjected.
“Hypothetically speaking.” Uris agreed. “Why wouldn’t they be allowed to speak?”
Gloris remained silent for a moment. “Tell me what you plan to do when you get home?”
Uris blinked, taken aback. “Uhh, well, I’ll probably play some games.”
“And you’re going to eat a meal?” She asked.
He nodded.
“And eventually you’ll head to sleep?”
He nodded again.
“And how would you feel if you couldn’t eat or sleep?”
“Hungry and tired.” Uris answered.
“And what would happen if you could never eat or sleep ever again?”
“I’d die.”
“And what if you couldn’t die?” Gloris asked with a serious expression on her face. “What if you had put your mind in an immortal, synthetic body?”
Uris’s mouth opened in disbelief. “Are you saying…”
“I’m not saying anything.” Gloris snapped. “It’d be a breach of privacy for me to say anything about our clients.”
“But hypothetically?” Uris asked.
Gloris frowned. “Hypothetically, there may have been a time where wealthy, powerful, ambitious people sought to escape death. Hypothetically, they had the wealth, power, and ambition to achieve their aims, but they lacked the wisdom to realize the horrors they were unleashing upon themselves, and they never realized that the human mind has evolved intimately with the human body. They didn’t understand that food and sleep and companionship are just as important to mental health as they are physical health, and by ridding themselves of the need or ability to sate physical needs, they doomed themselves to an existence of increasing madness.”
“Well couldn’t we just sorta…” Uris drug a thumb across his throat.
“Our clients were very, very rich.” Gloris answered. “They invested in companies and set up trusts so that they’d have caretakers for as long as civilization exists. Some of them remained sane long enough to tell us they wanted to die, and we were able to go through the legal loopholes necessary to grant them this mercy, but others simply began screaming. They screamed and screamed, and with no way to directly ask what they wanted, we were forced to fall back on what they’d written before they went insane… And, well, what they had written were instructions to keep them alive for as long as possible. So we removed their arms and legs, as they were presenting a danger to themselves… Hypothetically, of course.”
“And they wouldn’t stop screaming.” Uris said, aghast.
Gloris shook her head. “That’s why, hypothetically of course, we removed their voice boxes.”