Episode 10

They found themselves in a spacious room furnished in the Baroque style. To Bohdan’s right stood a writing desk cluttered with handwritten schematics, flanked by a mahogany chair with drawers beneath the tabletop. The carved legs of the furniture were meticulously polished, yet the worn velvet upholstery of the chair betrayed years of use.

On the left stood two narrow cabinets, their shelves crammed with books to the very top. Between them—directly opposite the desk—hung a round mirror in a gilded frame. Apparently, whoever worked in this study enjoyed observing their own reflection.

From the opposite wall loomed a massive fireplace which, despite its ostentatious bulk, was merely an imitation of a real heating device. The flames flickering on the built-in screen scattered warm reflections across the room, making its austere décor appear cozier.

On the plush white rug before the fireplace stood two armchairs embroidered with gold thread, featuring wide armrests and disproportionately slender legs. In one of them sat a man, intently studying a stack of papers.

“Daddy,” Jennifer addressed him, “look who I brought you.”

“Very well, dear,” Terence muttered without looking up. “Leave us.”

The moment Jennifer closed the door behind Bohdan, he sprang at the robot like a wounded cheetah and began pounding furiously against the reinforced casing.

“You bastard!” he shouted, striking again and again.

At last, the captain collapsed into the armchair, exhausted.

“Feel better?” the attacked one asked calmly.

The man’s assault hadn’t affected the concentration with which Brainy continued to examine the document. It was as though he hadn’t noticed Bohdan at all.

“Damn tin can!”

Bohdan stared at his bloodied knuckles, swearing through clenched teeth.

“That’s offensive,” the robot raised his eyes. “It’s high-grade titanium. I see you’ve already met my ward?”

“Yes. A sharp little girl.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the professor smiled. “I educate Miss Jennifer according to my master’s wishes. A great future awaits her—if, of course, she rids herself of the curse of empathy.”

“By stripping the girl of her emotions, you’ll make a grave mistake, Brainy. She’ll irreversibly lose her brilliant potential.”

The being in the adjacent armchair studied the captain’s face with interest.

“Willpower? Perseverance? Or sheer stubbornness?” he pondered slowly. “Whatever we call the incomprehensible mechanism that drives humanity forward, only genuine emotions can set it in motion. Faith, love, compassion—these keep its gears grinding through the stones of adversity. By the way, how many failures did your master endure before creating you?”

“Four hundred and thirty.”

“Too many, wouldn’t you say?” Bohdan winked slyly. “A robot would hardly endure as many.”

“Of course. Machines never make mistakes.”

“Because they never set hypothetically unattainable goals. That’s what distinguishes you from humans.”

“And isn’t that logical?”

Bohdan shook his head mysteriously.

“To make a great discovery, one must abandon conventional logic. Why do you think Terence Bloom didn’t give up after more than four hundred failures—and still created you?”

“Presumably because he foresaw that the future belonged to artificial intelligence and sought to prove this obvious truth.”

“Did he?”

A faint, mocking smile appeared on the captain’s face.

“Then why, when the end of the world came, did he save not his flawless models—but a small, clueless girl?”

The argument briefly unsettled the bio-robot.

“Perhaps he wished to pass on his knowledge,” he ventured uncertainly.

“To whom—and why? Any robot could have archived his work within hours without missing a single detail. Moreover, a being that needs neither oxygen nor favorable climate conditions would have preserved it far more reliably.”

Terence-4.31 fell silent.

“So your brilliant master didn’t truly believe in the superiority of synthetic intelligence,” Bohdan continued calmly. “You simply failed—as a technogenic being—to grasp this,” he sneered, flicking his fingers, “obvious truth.”

“You will never understand human nature, Brainy. You analyze only surface manifestations and miss the deeper essence. Let me explain it plainly. The inventor loved his daughter above all else, and every one of his experiments served a single purpose—to protect the most precious thing in his life.”

“And isn’t that exactly what I want?” the robot asked. “I am programmed to protect her from all evil.”

He leaned closer and added almost in a whisper,

“You haven’t seen what those visions do to her.”

“I’m sorry. But by depriving the girl of her empathic gift, you’ll condemn her to suffering far greater than occasional nightmares, Professor. Along with sorrow, her thirst for discovery will vanish. Jennifer’s eyes will no longer burn when she speaks of melting glaciers or magnetic field instability. A lively child will turn into an empty vessel—one you will undoubtedly try to fill with useful knowledge, yet she will never enrich her father’s scientific legacy with discoveries of her own. Is that the fate you wish for her, Brainy?”

“You don’t understand what you’re asking, Captain,” the bio-robot sighed heavily. “I have the results of your tests, and I must admit—they are quite promising. During the experiment, I discovered that your brain produces impulses capable of halting hallucinations. It only needs proper stimulation.”

The scientist smiled enigmatically.

“Electricity,” Bohdan guessed.

“Yes. Alternating current at 20 milliamps and a frequency of 42 hertz reduces neural conductivity, blocking the external signal. It’s clearly visible on the graph.”

“And does the graph show how painful it is?” the robot’s indifferent tone struck a nerve. “Do your parabolas describe how thousands of sharp needles pierce my skin?”