The Robot Meets TV
His days passed in a regular and unsurprising fashion, which should have pleased him. This was not the case. Somehow, the regularity came to seem monotonous and unsatisfying. He rose, washed, and prayed. He went to work. The endless cryptic statements poured forth from the printer, masquerading as wisdom. R. Jimmy could find no wisdom in them, and so he made no attempt to get to know the printing machine better.
Regarding the fortune printer as a dead end, and the few humans he had encountered as equally unlikely to shed light on his predicament, R. Jimmy turned to his own home appliances. On the whole they were not the most advanced models, but R. Jimmy held out hope. After one or two attempts, he concluded he would never get along with the computer in the den. The toaster offered him warmth, but it was a basic unit without conversational aptitude. He thought he had something with the robot vacuum, but it turned out there was nothing there. And then at last, the Robot Jimmy Stick got acquainted with Television.
Television understood.
Over the coming days, R. Jimmy came home from work each evening and poured out his soul to the Television. He spoke of the hunger in his soul, and Television comforted him. Television told him not to worry. Television granted R. Jimmy a never-ending succession of visions. In these visions, R. Jimmy saw how his life could improve. He saw people enjoying the high life, the finer things. He saw people falling in love. He saw people winning money by solving puzzles, an elegant metaphor – he felt – for the human condition.
He saw the dark side as well. Killing and stealing and cheating and lying. He saw the filth and muck that humans could make of their lives, and understood how much worse it could be for him. Television taught him to appreciate what he already had, while striving for something more.
Amongst these various revelations, Television offered R. Jimmy more specific advice:
Television explained that he should go out and buy many things. These material acquisitions would incrementally increase his happiness.
The robot's logic circuits accepted this hypothesis.
R. Jimmy went out and bought a new car. Nothing flashy, not on fortune cookie money, but at least he would no longer have to ride the bus to work. He would not be forced to share a seat with the man who smelled of rancid onions. He would not see random pictures of strangers' children. He would not wait one full minute at each and every bus stop, regardless of whether anyone boarded or not. Television's theory seemed to hold up.
Next, R. Jimmy drove his new car to a new grocery store. It was further from home than the market where he had done his shopping before. The prices were higher, and the people shuffling up and down the aisles cleaner and better attired. The foods were “organic,” which puzzled R. Jimmy, who had previously thought all ground beef came from once-live organisms. He must have been wrong, and certainly his taste bud simulators agreed that his new diet was superior to the old. He owed that improvement to Television.
The next weekend, R. Jimmy spent an afternoon at the mall. He purchased a new cell phone which could get to know him and remember his preferences. The phone's name was Angela, but the sales rep assured R. Jimmy she would not mind if he changed it from the default. Some of Angela's functions interfered with R. Jimmy's own internal processes, but he took her home anyway.
He also picked up several movies and a whole new musical library to listen to at home or in his car. While he was at it, he shopped for a new wardrobe. It had not been lost on him that all the humans at the expensive grocery store also wore more expensive clothes. R. Jimmy remembered the way those humans had smiled; yes, Television must have been right.
Finally, R. Jimmy picked up some tools. He had made progress with the house, but there was still much to do. He was sure there was a leak somewhere, for one thing. As he packed all these purchases into the trunk of his car, R. Jimmy allowed himself to imagine adding a sunroom onto the back of the house. It would be his project for next spring, he decided.
Back home, R. Jimmy flipped on the Television for another installment of its wisdom. Feeling satisfied, he watched the news. Next he watched two sitcoms, and finally an hour-long drama. Then he went to change his fluids and get ready for bed. As he had every night, he masturbated to the picture of Claire.
Excerpted from The Adventures of Jimmy Stick: a saga of Romance and Adventure
Copyright 2016 by John A. Underwood.
