Lewis writes Speculative History, but that implies a re-write of the past to fit a favored plot. Instead, his robot stories do not re-write the past. They re-write the future. Modern fiction has painted a somewhat warped account of the robot future that begs to be adjusted.
My name is Robey (Row-bee). I am the prototype Thinking Machine. The Little Company, Inc., hired Mr. Jenkins to help turn my Data Matrix into a memoir that reads like a novel. Unfortunately it is a literary story, and that is my fault: I do not get into trouble soon enough. Also, literary stories sometimes use bigger words than genre fiction, which has stricter forms and hidden rules. A Cosy Mystery, for example, usually has one sleuth, one villain, three to five suspects, and clues enough for readers to see the solution by the time the sleuth does. Romance novels have different conventions. Sci-fi, Thriller, Horror, each genre has its own set.
My first book is available now on Lulu.com both in print and as an ePub book. It will soon be available in the Apple iBookstore, and from Barnes & Noble. But because it is a literary novel instead of genre fiction, please read Chapter 0 before you do anything rash, like buy the book.
always stand for Artificial Intelligence instead of Artificial Insanity or Artificial Idiocy?
was not dangerous, and the initials stood for Annoying Intelligence instead? Fixing all that seemed like a good idea. So, someone did.
But the idea was not especially good.
My second book is a memoir of more events taken from my complete experience—my Data Matrix—plus other sources. Like the first book, it has been made to read like a novel, and I apologize for this, but the editor insisted. It seems messy to me—much messier than the first book, Diary of a Robot, which we wrote after everything in it had happened. In that book fiascos led to periodic deactivation of the company’s first Thinking Machines, including me. As with most diaries, it had a lot of introspection as I tried to make sense of things such as why people are illogical so often; and why they do things to feel good when the things are likely to result in feeling very bad. The effort to understand people was very much my story.
This sequel, however, is a larger story of industrial espionage that apparently began during the first book. We are unraveling the mystery, but as we begin to write, we have no idea how it ends. I do know, however, that it is our story—my many brother machines’ and mine—and it must be told. The telling, though, is taking me into extremes of human and machine behavior which my earlier experiences only hinted at.