The police and ambulance depart shortly afterward, and my owner returns to bed. The next morning he calls the VA, and requests a repair technician, who arrives that afternoon. He decides that my damage is minimal, and repairs are easily made.
My owner discusses robotics with the technician, who is happy to answer questions. “Sure, robots are alive,” he says. “You can’t always predict what they’ll do, which is one way to define life. In fact, no matter how careful you are when you give a robot a command, you can’t count on it to do exactly what you ordered.”
“I used to know a guy like that,” my owner says.
“Well, it’s not quite the same thing as with humans,” the technician says. “People know what they’re doing when they ‘misunderstand’ an order. Robots just ‘understand’ it in a way you didn’t expect. That’s different.”
“I suppose it is.”
The technician finishes the repairs, and I resume my functions. There is a considerable amount of work to perform; in addition to my usual routine, my owner makes certain changes in my programming. He invites his nephews to visit again, which entails even more work. Amid all this I note one improvement in my situation. The VRM-1489 hat rack is so badly damaged that my owner decides to put it out with the trash. Thus I will no longer confuse the floor lamp and the hat rack. All is well.
The two nephews appear late that afternoon, and at first their voice-stress levels are high. My owner speaks to them. “I was talkin’ crazy yesterday, and I’m sorry I scared you. I don’t ever want to do that again, OK?”
“OK,” they answer. The stress levels remain high.
“Good. Hey, Sock! Bring out the munchies.”
I roll out of the kitchen, carrying VRM-T-223 and VRM-T-224, coded as a bag of chips and a six-pack of cola. “Sock?” one of the nephews asks. “You changed his name?”
“Yeah. I did some thinking last night,” my owner says. “The robot’s name, well, it’s just a way to remember someone. I figure if I remember anyone, it should be the Sock and not Halloran.” I put the bag of chips and the six-pack of cola on the VRM-53 coffee table. “Yesterday I told you how the Sock died… but now I want to tell you how he lived.”