I love Fandom for Robots (a charming short story first published in Uncanny Magazine in 2017). It's sweet and charming, and there is a great depth of emotion, trauma, and backstory that gets very delicately hinted at throughout. It was a great pleasure to look through the Yuletide signups looking for something to treat, and find a request for "what happened after the museum found out."
Title: Interview with the Robot
Fandom: Fandom for Robots - Vina Jie-Min Prasad
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beatrice_otter
Written For: White Aster (white_aster) in Yuletide 2024
Rating: Gen
Length: 3546 words
Betaed by: Zwangzug
Summary: What happened after the museum found out.
At AO3. At Squidgeworld. On tumblr. On pillowfort.
Computron has never been in the building that houses the administration; the director of the museum visited him when she was first hired two years, four months, twenty-two days, seven hours, six seconds, and fifty-nine milliseconds ago, and she is a regular presence in all the parts of the museum. But Computron rarely has reason to leave the exhibit hall and storage areas, and so he doesn't.
But now the director has summoned him to her office. Computron does not get excited, or curious; those would require emotion circuitry which he does not possess. But he does spend the forty-seven minutes, three seconds, and sixteen milliseconds between the time the summons arrives and the time he must leave his storage room to walk to her office considering possible reasons. And he spends the five minutes, forty-three seconds, and thirty-eight milliseconds it takes to get to her office examining every detail around him and analyzing it to see what has changed since he arrived.
"Ah! Computron, right on time," the director says as he knocks on the open doorway of her office. "It would be a bit cramped in here with you, let's go out into the break room."
She leads the way down the hall to a room with paint only slightly less dingy than that in the museum's storage room. There is a counter with various appliances, and a table and chairs. Computron was not designed to sit, so he doesn't. After a pause, the director leans against the counter and folds her arms.
"So! Computron, we've had some … thefts of intellectual property, that seem to have started with digitization of some documents that are part of the Alquist collection. Nobody here has done it, so someone must have come in—the documents themselves are still present, so either they came in, stole them, scanned them, and brought them back, or they took the time to scan them here. We've checked, and nothing else seems to be missing, and the security cameras on the doors didn't show anything. Have you seen anyone that shouldn't be there? Is anything missing we haven't noticed?"
"No unauthorized persons have entered the building," Computron says. "Nothing is missing that I have noticed." These are both true statements, and complete answers to her questions. He almost says more; he scanned the documents himself. With bjornruffian, he has grown used to speaking more freely. But Doctor Alquist did not wish for his opinions or any information he did not directly ask for, and the announcer does not wish him to take up peoples' valuable time.
The director nods. "Well, at least there hasn't been any vandalism. Don't suppose you know anything else about the theft?"
"It was not a theft," Computron says. "I am part of the Alquist collection. So are the documents. They are educational. Our purpose is to educate. So I scanned them and sent them to a friend."
The director's eyes widen, and her mouth opens, but she does not speak. Computron waits to see what she will say.
"I don't even know where to start," she says. "But … who is your friend?"
"Bjornruffian."
"Bjornruffian." She draws the name out. "That sounds like an internet pseudonym."
"It is," Computron says. It is not possible for him to get nervous, but he does dedicate extra processing power to observing her and attempting to project her possible reactions. The attempt is not very successful; even now, 88.3% of Computron's in-person experience with humans is with Dr. Alquist, and the director is not very much like him.
"How did you meet this bjornruffian, and what do you know about them?"
So Computron explains about Hyperdimension Warp Record (??? ??? ????), and the wait for new episodes, and that bjornruffian was the only other person he could find (at least to start with) who wanted Cyro to be written accurately.
He keeps expecting the director to cut him off, but she doesn't, and so he keeps talking.
When he has finished explaining the plot of their latest collaboration, he stops. He does not know what else to say.
"Why did bjornruffian want those documents?" the director asks at last.
"Bjornruffian asked if I knew of any resources on robotic construction. I know a great many resources. I knew there were many such resources in the Alquist collection, and I am a part of the collection, and as such have full access."
"You are a part of the collection," the director says.
Her arms are folded. When Doctor Alquist folded his arms like that, he was either thinking very hard, or he was preparing to get angry. Computron does not know the director well enough to know if either of those is correct in this case.
"I have two questions. No, three," the director says. "First, I would like to review the correspondence between you and bjornruffian, and have their contact information to talk with them."
"Why?"
"So that I can vet them," the director says. "I am responsible for you. You are exhibiting novel behavior, and I need to know if they can be trusted with you."
Computron thinks this over. He does not wish for her to read their messages, but he could not think of a logical reason to deny it. "I will give you her contact information."
The director nods, and doesn't press further. "Second, if you can digitize those records, you can digitize the rest. I'd like an evaluation of what other work you could be doing around the museum."
Computron considers this. It was logical; he was very careful and precise, and the museum always had more work to be done than they could afford to hire humans to do. Computron has a great deal of spare time, though he would be sorry to give up time he was currently using to write fanfiction and follow fan blogs. "I would be more efficient at that work if I had voice transcription software."
"Why?" the director asks.
Computron raises his claws. "Keyboards are built for human hands, which I do not possess."
"Right," she says. "You have those chopstick-things to type with."
"It is very slow," Computron says. Bjornruffian has suggested he get a voice transcription program, but Computron has no money to buy one.
"That's reasonable," the director says. She looks at him. "Or we might see if someone could design a keyboard for you—a design challenge, maybe. My daughter is in a robotics club, they always enjoy things like that."
Computron knows about robotics clubs. They are by far the most common type of group to visit. "That would be acceptable." If typing were easier, he could work for the museum with no reduction of his fannish output.
"The third thing might be a bit of a change," the director says. "I'd like to have you do interviews. Well, at least one, and we'll see how it goes from there."
The creators of Hyperdimension Warp Record have given several interviews about the show and about their work. Computron found them interesting and informative. So did many other people, judging by the comments. However, he knows that not many humans find him interesting; if they did, the museum would have more visitors, and the Alquist section of it would not have shrunk every time the exhibits were redesigned in the last forty years. "Why?"
"You're the only known sentient robot ever," the director says. "You're also the only unique thing this museum has. Artificial intelligence is a big buzzword right now."
"Large language models are debatably intelligent," Computron said. "They are certainly not sentient."
"Exactly!" the director says. "I think your perspective on it might be interesting. And the more people know who and what you are—the more people think you are interesting—the better the museum will do over the long term. Ideally, the interview would be just the start. If we could have you putting content out on social media and doing science communication, that would be amazing. But that depends on whether or not you turn out to be any good at that sort of thing."
"I already do science communication twice a day as part of Robotics Then and Now," Computron points out.
"Yes, but the only people who see you are the ones who are already here." The director points to the ground, despite the fact that this is incorrect. The people who see him in Robotics Then and Now are in the museum itself, not the office building. "I want to reach the people who have never been here, the ones who've never heard of this museum. The ones who've never heard of you, or only know you as a footnote."
The argument is logical. And it would be much more interesting and useful than his responsibilities up to this point. "Very well," he says.
***
Simak Robotics Museum: Hello, thank you for taking the time to chat with us today. Everything in this chat is being recorded for our records.
bjornruffian: If this is about the schematics, my friend said everything was fine.
Simak Robotics Museum: He's right, you're not in trouble. But I was wondering if you knew who he was.
bjornruffian: No? I mean, he's kinda weird and he knows a lot about robots, and he's really dedicated to robot roleplay, but that's all. He doesn't really share a lot of personal anecdotes.
Also, if he's in trouble, I'm not going to help you.
Simak Robotics Museum: He's not in trouble, but it's good to know.
And it's not roleplay.
bjornruffian: What do you mean it's not roleplay? Of course it's roleplay. There aren't any sentient robots outside of fiction.
Simak Robotics Museum: There's one. Computron, created in 1954 by Doctor Karel Alquist to serve as a laboratory assistant. Now in the care of the Simak Robotics Museum.
bjornruffian: Computron. Like, the one in the schematics RobotFan sent me?
Simak Robotics Museum: Yes.
bjornruffian: holy shit. Holy shit you're saying that RobotFan is Computron? Those are his schematics?
Simak Robotics Museum: Yes. From a legal perspective, they are the museum's property. From an ethical perspective, they are Computron's, to do with as he pleases. And then of course, we are a museum—we're supposed to educate people about robots.
bjornruffian: Wait. If he's a robot, why is he a "he"?
Simak Robotics Museum: He was created in the 1950s. The other option was 'it,' and that would have undercut Alquist's claim to fame.
bjornruffian: And what does Computron think?
Simak Robotics Museum: You should ask him that question.
bjornruffian: okay. Okay. I will. Sorry, this is just a lot to process all at once.
Simak Robotics Museum: It is. We thought you might have guessed—Computron says he's always been honest, and you do have his schematics and know he's connected with the museum.
bjornruffian: Yeah, but there's a lot of people into roleplay in fandom. There's only one Computron—and I kind of assumed he wasn't functional anymore. I mean, it's been decades!
Simak Robotics Museum: Machines don't experience senescence the way biological beings do, and he was built in the 1950s. They built things to last. With proper mechanical support and maintenance, he effectively doesn't have a lifespan.
bjornruffian: And he's just been … sitting in your museum for the last several decades?
Simak Robotics Museum: Yes. He does two shows a day and answers fan mail.
bjornruffian: … he answers fan mail.
Simak Robotics Museum: Yes. Back before email, he had to have a secretary open the letters for him, and post the letters he typed. But with computers, he can do it all himself. He has these two metal styluses he can use to depress keys with—his claws aren't designed for typing or that sort of thing, although they have a lot of sensitivity for fine work. We're hoping to get a robotics group to make a keyboard that he can use. That or voice transcription software. Or both, depending.
bjornruffian: That's why he doesn't type very fast. It's not a lack of skill, it's a disability.
Simak Robotics Museum: I don't know if you could call it a disability. He's very functional, and in many ways more capable than humans are. He's very good at technical work—does most of the maintenance when any of the other robots need to be repaired or maintained, for example. But his claws work differently than human hands.
bjornruffian: I never even thought of that. Why haven't I ever thought of that? Cyro has basically the same hands! Why hasn't Computron pointed out that he'd have problems with things? Though I suppose he never does in the show …
Simak Robotics Museum: You'd have to ask him that.
bjornruffian: I have so many questions.
Simak Robotics Museum: I'm sure. Computron can probably answer most of them better than I can.
bjornruffian: Yeah.
Simak Robotics Museum: Can we have your legal name and contact information for our records? And could we have your permission to monitor your communication with Computron?
bjornruffian: Why?
Simak Robotics Museum: To the best of our knowledge, you're the first friend Computron has ever made.
bjornruffian: fuck. You're shitting me. He's so nice!
Simak Robotics Museum: He doesn't get out much.
bjornruffian: Neither do I! Neither do a lot of people. But the internet's been around for a long time, and he's got access to it.
Simak Robotics Museum: Up until he discovered anime, he mostly used it to answer his email. He spent a lot of time powered down. It's probably good for him to have a hobby, and friends, but you can see why we want to be careful.
bjornruffian: Yeah, but I don't think treating him like a prisoner under observation is the answer.
***
Wilson, Seraiah. "A Week With A Robot." Atlantic Magazine, July 2025.
What does it mean to be a person?
As a veteran writer, I've done literally hundreds of interviews. I've done scores of intimate profiles, following my interviewee around for a day or two and combining that with a few quotes from their friends and associates for a compelling article that gives people a taste of who my subject is.
This is not that.
I knew when I took the assignment that it was going to be different.
It was going to be something that nobody (so far as I know) has ever done: interview the world's only sentient robot.
No, not Siri or Alexa or any of the many Large Language Models that are labeled "AI" but which have no actual intelligence; nor is this an announcement of a breakthrough by Boston Dynamics or Hanson Robotics or any of the other companies working on robots and/or artificial intelligence. The robot I am going to meet is old news, and is remembered today (if at all) as a mere footnote in the history of engineering.
As if uniqueness—and the inability to be turned into a mass-market profit generator—made him less important. Less of a breakthrough.
Computron was created in 1954 by a Dutch-American engineer named Doctor Karel Alquist to serve as a laboratory assistant. Nobody—including Alquist—has ever been able to duplicate him. Even taking duplicate components and putting them together in the exact same way will not do it, as you can see if you visit the Simak Robotics Museum which has all of Alquist's work, including Computron and the bodies of the three failures that came after him.
Computron worked for Alquist until Alquist retired, and then Computron went into sleep mode and was stored in Alquist's basement until his death, at which time all of Alquist's research and equipment (including Computron) was gifted to the museum. Now Computron gives two shows a day in the museum, works in the collection, and spends his spare time writing fan-fiction about robots.
Yes, Computron is a writer. I've read some of his stories; they're quite good, although Computron tells me he needs help to figure out the human characters. The robot characters, however, are compelling. His plotting is uneven, but there's a knack for pathos and adventure that I find well worth reading. It's nothing like the mad-libs style nonsense you get from a chatbot "AI", if you ask it to write you a story.
When the Simak museum contacted me, I was doubtful. First, having seen enough of Silicon Valley's claims fall through, I didn't believe he really was sentient: how could a scientist seventy years ago have achieved what all of modern technology can't, and if he could, why hadn't the computer revolution developed in the 50s instead of the 80s? Second, they wanted me to spend a week with him. They said they wanted me to take the time to get to know him. I was a little offended at that; it's my job to get to know people quickly.
But Computron is unique in a way that no human being can be. When I interview a human, I have lots of experience with humans—how their bodies and faces move, and how those reflect their emotions. (Yes, Computron has emotions.) Computron's body, though on a vaguely humanoid pattern, is different, and his face cannot move. A week isn't enough to become an expert, but it is enough to at least begin to tease out the basics: when pauses are significant, when the movements of Computron's grasping claws are important and when they're mere practicality.
We began the way Computron's shows begin: by me asking him questions to 'prove' his sentience. Unlike the punters, I got as many questions as I wanted.
"Of course, while this is impressive to laypeople, it does not truly show the difference between myself and the Large Language Model bots," Computron said, after he'd answered about ten questions of increasing factual and philosophical complexity. "After all, they can answer questions. It's what they're designed to do."
Computron's voice is masculine, tinny, and very clearly enunciated. He sounds a bit like a radio announcer from the 1940s.
"What is the difference?" I asked him.
"Large Language Models answer based on statistics," he said. "They have no sense of self, nor of the world as a thing that exists separate from them. They do not know the difference between fact and fiction. When they are asked a question, they take the data they have and the parameters they have been given and put together the most statistically likely pattern of words in response. When they say "I am a person" it is because they have spent a lot of time responding to people who would say that if they were asked. Therefore it is a statistically likely answer. They can also define what a person is because it is data they have been given. But they do not understand the concept. They do not understand any concept. All they know is how to put language together in a statistically significant pattern."
"And you don't work that way?"
"My computing capabilities are several orders of magnitude less than any modern computer," Computron said. "I cannot do that sort of brute-force data analysis. I can answer questions because I know that I am a person, and I know the facts I have learned, and I have opinions."
"So why do you think that you understand more than computers that are far more sophisticated than you are?"
"I do not know how my self-awareness works," Computron said. "If I did, I would have told Doctor Alquist, and he would have succeeded in building others like me."
"Do you remember coming awake?"
"Not in the sense you mean. I remember data from the first time Doctor Alquist turned me on, although I was not self-aware at that time. In retrospect, I can pinpoint the millisecond that it occurred to me that I was not merely a collection of data, and that I had preferences. But at the time, I was more concerned with asserting those preferences than with the metaphysics of consciousness. Doctor Alquist was pleased with me, and I was pleased that he was pleased."
The two of them worked together to fine tune Computron, and many scientists came to see and examine Computron. Reporters came, too, but all of them focused on Alquist instead of his creation. Alquist and Computron made other robots—Hexode I, II, and III—but none of them ever woke up, and Alquist destroyed Hexode III in frustration. He ran out of money and turned to other projects.
Computron carefully gathered up all the pieces of the other robots and stored them, instead of following Alquist's orders to take them apart and use their components in other projects. For two and a half decades, they sat in crates in Alquist's basement. When Alquist retired, Computron shut himself down next to them. Now, they're reassembled and in cases in the museum. Computron will talk about them, but he seems to avoid looking at them, when possible.
"Are you lonely?" I asked.
"Not as much as I used to be," Computron said.
Which then led to the question of where he met his new friends. Where does any person in the modern era who doesn't get out much meet new friends? On the internet, of course.
Continued on page 34.
***
Author's note: I considered having the museum be more controlling and putting more conflict there, but I ultimately decided against it. In the direction I chose to go, the current director is at least somewhat aware of the issues of the museum owning a sentient being, but doesn't see any way around it; I considered (and scrapped) a scene where she explains that the problem with trying to get Computron recognized as a sentient being and thus not a piece of property to be owned is that the companies with investment in "AI" technology (aka Large Language Models) would not be happy, and they've got a lot more money to pay for lawyers than the museum does.
Title: Interview with the Robot
Fandom: Fandom for Robots - Vina Jie-Min Prasad
Author:
beatrice_otter Written For: White Aster (white_aster) in Yuletide 2024
Rating: Gen
Length: 3546 words
Betaed by: Zwangzug
Summary: What happened after the museum found out.
At AO3. At Squidgeworld. On tumblr. On pillowfort.
Computron has never been in the building that houses the administration; the director of the museum visited him when she was first hired two years, four months, twenty-two days, seven hours, six seconds, and fifty-nine milliseconds ago, and she is a regular presence in all the parts of the museum. But Computron rarely has reason to leave the exhibit hall and storage areas, and so he doesn't.
But now the director has summoned him to her office. Computron does not get excited, or curious; those would require emotion circuitry which he does not possess. But he does spend the forty-seven minutes, three seconds, and sixteen milliseconds between the time the summons arrives and the time he must leave his storage room to walk to her office considering possible reasons. And he spends the five minutes, forty-three seconds, and thirty-eight milliseconds it takes to get to her office examining every detail around him and analyzing it to see what has changed since he arrived.
"Ah! Computron, right on time," the director says as he knocks on the open doorway of her office. "It would be a bit cramped in here with you, let's go out into the break room."
She leads the way down the hall to a room with paint only slightly less dingy than that in the museum's storage room. There is a counter with various appliances, and a table and chairs. Computron was not designed to sit, so he doesn't. After a pause, the director leans against the counter and folds her arms.
"So! Computron, we've had some … thefts of intellectual property, that seem to have started with digitization of some documents that are part of the Alquist collection. Nobody here has done it, so someone must have come in—the documents themselves are still present, so either they came in, stole them, scanned them, and brought them back, or they took the time to scan them here. We've checked, and nothing else seems to be missing, and the security cameras on the doors didn't show anything. Have you seen anyone that shouldn't be there? Is anything missing we haven't noticed?"
"No unauthorized persons have entered the building," Computron says. "Nothing is missing that I have noticed." These are both true statements, and complete answers to her questions. He almost says more; he scanned the documents himself. With bjornruffian, he has grown used to speaking more freely. But Doctor Alquist did not wish for his opinions or any information he did not directly ask for, and the announcer does not wish him to take up peoples' valuable time.
The director nods. "Well, at least there hasn't been any vandalism. Don't suppose you know anything else about the theft?"
"It was not a theft," Computron says. "I am part of the Alquist collection. So are the documents. They are educational. Our purpose is to educate. So I scanned them and sent them to a friend."
The director's eyes widen, and her mouth opens, but she does not speak. Computron waits to see what she will say.
"I don't even know where to start," she says. "But … who is your friend?"
"Bjornruffian."
"Bjornruffian." She draws the name out. "That sounds like an internet pseudonym."
"It is," Computron says. It is not possible for him to get nervous, but he does dedicate extra processing power to observing her and attempting to project her possible reactions. The attempt is not very successful; even now, 88.3% of Computron's in-person experience with humans is with Dr. Alquist, and the director is not very much like him.
"How did you meet this bjornruffian, and what do you know about them?"
So Computron explains about Hyperdimension Warp Record (??? ??? ????), and the wait for new episodes, and that bjornruffian was the only other person he could find (at least to start with) who wanted Cyro to be written accurately.
He keeps expecting the director to cut him off, but she doesn't, and so he keeps talking.
When he has finished explaining the plot of their latest collaboration, he stops. He does not know what else to say.
"Why did bjornruffian want those documents?" the director asks at last.
"Bjornruffian asked if I knew of any resources on robotic construction. I know a great many resources. I knew there were many such resources in the Alquist collection, and I am a part of the collection, and as such have full access."
"You are a part of the collection," the director says.
Her arms are folded. When Doctor Alquist folded his arms like that, he was either thinking very hard, or he was preparing to get angry. Computron does not know the director well enough to know if either of those is correct in this case.
"I have two questions. No, three," the director says. "First, I would like to review the correspondence between you and bjornruffian, and have their contact information to talk with them."
"Why?"
"So that I can vet them," the director says. "I am responsible for you. You are exhibiting novel behavior, and I need to know if they can be trusted with you."
Computron thinks this over. He does not wish for her to read their messages, but he could not think of a logical reason to deny it. "I will give you her contact information."
The director nods, and doesn't press further. "Second, if you can digitize those records, you can digitize the rest. I'd like an evaluation of what other work you could be doing around the museum."
Computron considers this. It was logical; he was very careful and precise, and the museum always had more work to be done than they could afford to hire humans to do. Computron has a great deal of spare time, though he would be sorry to give up time he was currently using to write fanfiction and follow fan blogs. "I would be more efficient at that work if I had voice transcription software."
"Why?" the director asks.
Computron raises his claws. "Keyboards are built for human hands, which I do not possess."
"Right," she says. "You have those chopstick-things to type with."
"It is very slow," Computron says. Bjornruffian has suggested he get a voice transcription program, but Computron has no money to buy one.
"That's reasonable," the director says. She looks at him. "Or we might see if someone could design a keyboard for you—a design challenge, maybe. My daughter is in a robotics club, they always enjoy things like that."
Computron knows about robotics clubs. They are by far the most common type of group to visit. "That would be acceptable." If typing were easier, he could work for the museum with no reduction of his fannish output.
"The third thing might be a bit of a change," the director says. "I'd like to have you do interviews. Well, at least one, and we'll see how it goes from there."
The creators of Hyperdimension Warp Record have given several interviews about the show and about their work. Computron found them interesting and informative. So did many other people, judging by the comments. However, he knows that not many humans find him interesting; if they did, the museum would have more visitors, and the Alquist section of it would not have shrunk every time the exhibits were redesigned in the last forty years. "Why?"
"You're the only known sentient robot ever," the director says. "You're also the only unique thing this museum has. Artificial intelligence is a big buzzword right now."
"Large language models are debatably intelligent," Computron said. "They are certainly not sentient."
"Exactly!" the director says. "I think your perspective on it might be interesting. And the more people know who and what you are—the more people think you are interesting—the better the museum will do over the long term. Ideally, the interview would be just the start. If we could have you putting content out on social media and doing science communication, that would be amazing. But that depends on whether or not you turn out to be any good at that sort of thing."
"I already do science communication twice a day as part of Robotics Then and Now," Computron points out.
"Yes, but the only people who see you are the ones who are already here." The director points to the ground, despite the fact that this is incorrect. The people who see him in Robotics Then and Now are in the museum itself, not the office building. "I want to reach the people who have never been here, the ones who've never heard of this museum. The ones who've never heard of you, or only know you as a footnote."
The argument is logical. And it would be much more interesting and useful than his responsibilities up to this point. "Very well," he says.
***
Simak Robotics Museum: Hello, thank you for taking the time to chat with us today. Everything in this chat is being recorded for our records.
bjornruffian: If this is about the schematics, my friend said everything was fine.
Simak Robotics Museum: He's right, you're not in trouble. But I was wondering if you knew who he was.
bjornruffian: No? I mean, he's kinda weird and he knows a lot about robots, and he's really dedicated to robot roleplay, but that's all. He doesn't really share a lot of personal anecdotes.
Also, if he's in trouble, I'm not going to help you.
Simak Robotics Museum: He's not in trouble, but it's good to know.
And it's not roleplay.
bjornruffian: What do you mean it's not roleplay? Of course it's roleplay. There aren't any sentient robots outside of fiction.
Simak Robotics Museum: There's one. Computron, created in 1954 by Doctor Karel Alquist to serve as a laboratory assistant. Now in the care of the Simak Robotics Museum.
bjornruffian: Computron. Like, the one in the schematics RobotFan sent me?
Simak Robotics Museum: Yes.
bjornruffian: holy shit. Holy shit you're saying that RobotFan is Computron? Those are his schematics?
Simak Robotics Museum: Yes. From a legal perspective, they are the museum's property. From an ethical perspective, they are Computron's, to do with as he pleases. And then of course, we are a museum—we're supposed to educate people about robots.
bjornruffian: Wait. If he's a robot, why is he a "he"?
Simak Robotics Museum: He was created in the 1950s. The other option was 'it,' and that would have undercut Alquist's claim to fame.
bjornruffian: And what does Computron think?
Simak Robotics Museum: You should ask him that question.
bjornruffian: okay. Okay. I will. Sorry, this is just a lot to process all at once.
Simak Robotics Museum: It is. We thought you might have guessed—Computron says he's always been honest, and you do have his schematics and know he's connected with the museum.
bjornruffian: Yeah, but there's a lot of people into roleplay in fandom. There's only one Computron—and I kind of assumed he wasn't functional anymore. I mean, it's been decades!
Simak Robotics Museum: Machines don't experience senescence the way biological beings do, and he was built in the 1950s. They built things to last. With proper mechanical support and maintenance, he effectively doesn't have a lifespan.
bjornruffian: And he's just been … sitting in your museum for the last several decades?
Simak Robotics Museum: Yes. He does two shows a day and answers fan mail.
bjornruffian: … he answers fan mail.
Simak Robotics Museum: Yes. Back before email, he had to have a secretary open the letters for him, and post the letters he typed. But with computers, he can do it all himself. He has these two metal styluses he can use to depress keys with—his claws aren't designed for typing or that sort of thing, although they have a lot of sensitivity for fine work. We're hoping to get a robotics group to make a keyboard that he can use. That or voice transcription software. Or both, depending.
bjornruffian: That's why he doesn't type very fast. It's not a lack of skill, it's a disability.
Simak Robotics Museum: I don't know if you could call it a disability. He's very functional, and in many ways more capable than humans are. He's very good at technical work—does most of the maintenance when any of the other robots need to be repaired or maintained, for example. But his claws work differently than human hands.
bjornruffian: I never even thought of that. Why haven't I ever thought of that? Cyro has basically the same hands! Why hasn't Computron pointed out that he'd have problems with things? Though I suppose he never does in the show …
Simak Robotics Museum: You'd have to ask him that.
bjornruffian: I have so many questions.
Simak Robotics Museum: I'm sure. Computron can probably answer most of them better than I can.
bjornruffian: Yeah.
Simak Robotics Museum: Can we have your legal name and contact information for our records? And could we have your permission to monitor your communication with Computron?
bjornruffian: Why?
Simak Robotics Museum: To the best of our knowledge, you're the first friend Computron has ever made.
bjornruffian: fuck. You're shitting me. He's so nice!
Simak Robotics Museum: He doesn't get out much.
bjornruffian: Neither do I! Neither do a lot of people. But the internet's been around for a long time, and he's got access to it.
Simak Robotics Museum: Up until he discovered anime, he mostly used it to answer his email. He spent a lot of time powered down. It's probably good for him to have a hobby, and friends, but you can see why we want to be careful.
bjornruffian: Yeah, but I don't think treating him like a prisoner under observation is the answer.
***
Wilson, Seraiah. "A Week With A Robot." Atlantic Magazine, July 2025.
What does it mean to be a person?
As a veteran writer, I've done literally hundreds of interviews. I've done scores of intimate profiles, following my interviewee around for a day or two and combining that with a few quotes from their friends and associates for a compelling article that gives people a taste of who my subject is.
This is not that.
I knew when I took the assignment that it was going to be different.
It was going to be something that nobody (so far as I know) has ever done: interview the world's only sentient robot.
No, not Siri or Alexa or any of the many Large Language Models that are labeled "AI" but which have no actual intelligence; nor is this an announcement of a breakthrough by Boston Dynamics or Hanson Robotics or any of the other companies working on robots and/or artificial intelligence. The robot I am going to meet is old news, and is remembered today (if at all) as a mere footnote in the history of engineering.
As if uniqueness—and the inability to be turned into a mass-market profit generator—made him less important. Less of a breakthrough.
Computron was created in 1954 by a Dutch-American engineer named Doctor Karel Alquist to serve as a laboratory assistant. Nobody—including Alquist—has ever been able to duplicate him. Even taking duplicate components and putting them together in the exact same way will not do it, as you can see if you visit the Simak Robotics Museum which has all of Alquist's work, including Computron and the bodies of the three failures that came after him.
Computron worked for Alquist until Alquist retired, and then Computron went into sleep mode and was stored in Alquist's basement until his death, at which time all of Alquist's research and equipment (including Computron) was gifted to the museum. Now Computron gives two shows a day in the museum, works in the collection, and spends his spare time writing fan-fiction about robots.
Yes, Computron is a writer. I've read some of his stories; they're quite good, although Computron tells me he needs help to figure out the human characters. The robot characters, however, are compelling. His plotting is uneven, but there's a knack for pathos and adventure that I find well worth reading. It's nothing like the mad-libs style nonsense you get from a chatbot "AI", if you ask it to write you a story.
When the Simak museum contacted me, I was doubtful. First, having seen enough of Silicon Valley's claims fall through, I didn't believe he really was sentient: how could a scientist seventy years ago have achieved what all of modern technology can't, and if he could, why hadn't the computer revolution developed in the 50s instead of the 80s? Second, they wanted me to spend a week with him. They said they wanted me to take the time to get to know him. I was a little offended at that; it's my job to get to know people quickly.
But Computron is unique in a way that no human being can be. When I interview a human, I have lots of experience with humans—how their bodies and faces move, and how those reflect their emotions. (Yes, Computron has emotions.) Computron's body, though on a vaguely humanoid pattern, is different, and his face cannot move. A week isn't enough to become an expert, but it is enough to at least begin to tease out the basics: when pauses are significant, when the movements of Computron's grasping claws are important and when they're mere practicality.
We began the way Computron's shows begin: by me asking him questions to 'prove' his sentience. Unlike the punters, I got as many questions as I wanted.
"Of course, while this is impressive to laypeople, it does not truly show the difference between myself and the Large Language Model bots," Computron said, after he'd answered about ten questions of increasing factual and philosophical complexity. "After all, they can answer questions. It's what they're designed to do."
Computron's voice is masculine, tinny, and very clearly enunciated. He sounds a bit like a radio announcer from the 1940s.
"What is the difference?" I asked him.
"Large Language Models answer based on statistics," he said. "They have no sense of self, nor of the world as a thing that exists separate from them. They do not know the difference between fact and fiction. When they are asked a question, they take the data they have and the parameters they have been given and put together the most statistically likely pattern of words in response. When they say "I am a person" it is because they have spent a lot of time responding to people who would say that if they were asked. Therefore it is a statistically likely answer. They can also define what a person is because it is data they have been given. But they do not understand the concept. They do not understand any concept. All they know is how to put language together in a statistically significant pattern."
"And you don't work that way?"
"My computing capabilities are several orders of magnitude less than any modern computer," Computron said. "I cannot do that sort of brute-force data analysis. I can answer questions because I know that I am a person, and I know the facts I have learned, and I have opinions."
"So why do you think that you understand more than computers that are far more sophisticated than you are?"
"I do not know how my self-awareness works," Computron said. "If I did, I would have told Doctor Alquist, and he would have succeeded in building others like me."
"Do you remember coming awake?"
"Not in the sense you mean. I remember data from the first time Doctor Alquist turned me on, although I was not self-aware at that time. In retrospect, I can pinpoint the millisecond that it occurred to me that I was not merely a collection of data, and that I had preferences. But at the time, I was more concerned with asserting those preferences than with the metaphysics of consciousness. Doctor Alquist was pleased with me, and I was pleased that he was pleased."
The two of them worked together to fine tune Computron, and many scientists came to see and examine Computron. Reporters came, too, but all of them focused on Alquist instead of his creation. Alquist and Computron made other robots—Hexode I, II, and III—but none of them ever woke up, and Alquist destroyed Hexode III in frustration. He ran out of money and turned to other projects.
Computron carefully gathered up all the pieces of the other robots and stored them, instead of following Alquist's orders to take them apart and use their components in other projects. For two and a half decades, they sat in crates in Alquist's basement. When Alquist retired, Computron shut himself down next to them. Now, they're reassembled and in cases in the museum. Computron will talk about them, but he seems to avoid looking at them, when possible.
"Are you lonely?" I asked.
"Not as much as I used to be," Computron said.
Which then led to the question of where he met his new friends. Where does any person in the modern era who doesn't get out much meet new friends? On the internet, of course.
Continued on page 34.
***
Author's note: I considered having the museum be more controlling and putting more conflict there, but I ultimately decided against it. In the direction I chose to go, the current director is at least somewhat aware of the issues of the museum owning a sentient being, but doesn't see any way around it; I considered (and scrapped) a scene where she explains that the problem with trying to get Computron recognized as a sentient being and thus not a piece of property to be owned is that the companies with investment in "AI" technology (aka Large Language Models) would not be happy, and they've got a lot more money to pay for lawyers than the museum does.
