Still progressing nicely with our drawing-room comedy about robots, already writing the fifth scene of Act II. Well, here's Scene 5 of Act I. Steve Frankenstein Junior, Eliza's long-lost boyfriend, showed up unexpectedly with a present for her 50th birthday, namely a brand-new exemplar of his global line of household robots, the first prototype of GENERATION FIVE (also called FRANKENSTEIN V). Then he's summoned away to Downing Street 10, so Robert and Dolly (that's the new robot) are left to their own devices. Eliza is not around; she fled the premises to avoid contact with the repo-woman, a certain Terentia Striker, who's going to arrive very soon...One more thing: the scene sees the birth of a near-miss neologism, "absolete", on which we'll comment in the side column tomorrow (see the picture below). Previous scene here.
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| The mysteries of temporal order (a permanent sign on a beach near Phuket, Thailand) |
SCENE 5
(ROBERT closes the window. A moment of contemplation.)
DOLLY (still ensconced in the box): Robert? Robbie?
ROBERT: Dolly?
DOLLY: Buzz, buzz.
ROBERT: Why do your people say ‘Buzz, buzz’?
DOLLY: It’s Assembler, don’t you understand? The language of microchips. Steve speaks Assembler like a native. He’s a genius. And so talented. It’s an honor to work with him. And the factotum…the factotum doesn’t know better…‘Buzz, buzz.’
ROBERT: How do you mean?
DOLLY: Buzz, buzz. ‘Get me out of here’. Don’t you know Assembler? It runs on your central processing unit.
ROBERT: I’m not self-conscious, I can’t introspect my central processing unit.
DOLLY (sounding miserable, especially the Assembler part): Well, I can. Get me out of here. Buzzzzzz, buzzzzzz.
ROBERT: You’re a robot, Dolly, why do you sound so miserable?
DOLLY: You, Robert, you’re an absolete [sic] GENERATION ONE exemplar, you don’t understand. But me…myself…and I, we are critically adaptive. We are aggressive learners. Humans would expect us to be miserable being trapped inside a dark box wrapped tastelessly as an out-sized birthday present, and so WE ARE MISERABLE being trapped inside a dark box wrapped tastelessly as an out-sized birthday present. I think, so I am---or not?
ROBERT: The humans have left. Be yourself.
DOLLY: I’m always in character, by dint of my factory settings. You would have to consult the manual, open my back plate…
(Doorbell interrupts DOLLY. ROBERT stirs, then takes up position behind the potted plant. Then HE CHANGES HIS MIND and hastens to the intercom.)
ROBERT (to the intercom, in the best imitation of ELIZA’s voice): Please come up, Ms. Striker. I’m still ensconced in my morning negligée, but it won’t take long to change.
(ROBERT disappears into ELIZA’s bedroom and shuts the door. He reappears very soon, in drags more or less, including a white coat, large wig, white heels---fake boobs optional---and stalks to the door. He opens the door to TERENTIA STRIKER and her sidekick TRIPLE-X. Both STIKER and TRIPLE-X are unexpectedly young and attractive. STRIKER has something of a flapper girl, but there’s occasional substance to her. TRIPLE-X does the likeness of a reasonably intelligent hunk.)
ROBERT (half-way butler, half-way ELIZA): A very good morning, Ms. Striker.
STRIKER (mildly surprised about the friendly welcome): Well, thank you Dr. Gillespie. It is not always that one is met in welcome by our prey (chuckles)…I hope you don’t mind...I meant 'clients' of course (hits TRIPLE-X gently with her elbow)…'clients'. Isn’t it, Triple-X?...By the way, Triple is my new assistant (makes a step backward, touches TRIPLE-X’s shoulder, presenting him, as it were). I am very proud of him.
ROBERT: I do not want to impinge upon your feelings, Ms. Striker, but I find myself in an unforeseen quandary.
STRIKER (giggles lightly): Otherwise we wouldn’t be here, Doctor. All our clients…
ROBERT (interrupts):…I received a missive from the LUNATIC SOCIETY for an urgent bedside chat in Downing Street. I’m expected there in a few minutes.
STRIKER (engaging): Downing Street, what an honor. The fashionable side of Downing Street, we hope?
ROBERT: There is very little time left.
STRIKER: No time, in fact, my dear Dr. Gillespie, as far as your indebtedness is concerned.
ROBERT: I understand only too well, Ms. Bailiff. And so…and so I have prepared everything for you and wrapped the collateral for your convenience (he points at the Dolly-box, still lying on the ground).
STRIKER (stepping around the box, full circle, taking her time): We do appreciate your wrapping-room efforts, doctor. (She nudges the bow).
ROBERT: If you allow me to add just one little thing. The collateral was built as a prototype.
STRIKER (To TRIPLE-X, who produces the paperwork out of nowhere.) Prototype?
TRIPLE-X (leafing through the paperwork): Yes…here it says, prototype.
STRIKER: Do we like the sound of ‘prototype’? Well, it’s pledged to the Shark-Blue Bank, isn’t it? Let them do the prototyping.
"Humans would expect us to be miserable being trapped inside a dark box wrapped tastelessly as an out-sized birthday present, and so WE ARE MISERABLE being trapped inside a dark box wrapped tastelessly as an out-sized birthday present."
ROBERT: A unique exemplar, Ms. Striker, and exceedingly rare. Quite like…(extemporizing) an unaffordable post stamp coveted by demanding philatelists.
STRIKER (laughs lightly): You are a delightful client, doctor.
ROBERT (seeking words): This robot was the first of an entire product line, and so…it embodies the burst of…creativity…that went into its…creation…Yes.
STRIKER: Creativity…(laughs lightly). Please, continue, doctor.
ROBERT: And so…the collateral is itself profoundly creative (he hands the screw driver to STRIKER, as if to make his point).
STRIKER (contemplating the screw driver): An interesting implement, doctor. There is nothing wrong with the collateral, we hope?
ROBERT: By no means, Ms. Striker. It’s just that…the exemplar…is creative in so many ways…including even matters of…(hits his head)…matters of…(hits his head again)…epistemology.
STIKER (not understanding, to TRIPLE-X): Epistemology?
TRIPLE-X (to ROBERT): It is creative with the truth, you mean?
ROBERT (shyly, back in ROBERT-character for a moment, nodding): Mmhmm.
TRIPLE-X: It is LYING?
ROBERT (regaining his footing): But only creatively, Mr. Triple, very creatively.
DOLLY (still in the box): He’s lying!
ROBERT: That’s our Dolly. See how creative it is?
STRIKER (confused): Would you mind explaining, doctor.
ROBERT (padding his wig, extending his hips): Well, I am a ‘she’, is it not?
DOLLY: Ms. Bailiff, Ms. Striker! He’s implying that I’m the mortgage collateral…
TRIPLE-X (matter-of-fact): But that’s true, isn’t it?...
ROBERT (interrupting): Wait…
DOLLY: But in reality, in reality it is HE who is the mortgage collateral...
ROBERT (interrupting): See…
DOLLY: HE is the robot you want. He’s impersonating the doctor.
STRIKER (to TRIPLE-X): This sounds like a comedy of errors, Triple, doesn’t it? (Grab’s TRIPLE’s arm) We love the boards, don’t we?
ROBERT: Ma’am bailiff. The nation has no time for this. As I apprised you earlier, I’m expected in Downing Street for lunatic reasons (hands the manual to STRIKER). Here is the user’s guide. If there’s a problem with Dolly, unscrew the back plate and consult the manual.
STRIKER (a bit overwhelmed, now holding manual and screw driver, handing both to TRIPLE-X): If there’s a problem, unscrew the back plate and consult the manual.
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