Author’s note: In the previous chapter, Orev, a robotic raven, was captured by Andrew, the scientist responsible for burning the laboratory where he was built. However, Orev was saved by a mysterious snake who could turn into a person.
Second note: This chapter, like the last one, is from Orev’s perspective. For more details about what that entails, see the second author’s note from the previous chapter (The Jewish Link, July 11, 2024)
As Orev followed the snake-who-was-also-a-person-who-was-also-a-raven through the air, he did his best to remain quiet and not attract any attention. However, the moment the two of them entered the attic of an abandoned building through a broken window, all of his questions emerged from his beak at once. At first, the shapeshifter ignored him and began to peck at the ground.
“What are you doing?” Orev asked.
“Testing to see if the floor is stable so that I don’t fall through it when I shift,” the creature said before taking on the shape of a snake with copper scales, “Much better. By the way, I realized that I forgot to introduce myself. Call me Nechoshet.”
“Nice to meet you, Nechoshet. Call me Orev.” Orev said. “Can you tell me what you are now?”
“It’s a long story,” the snake (?) replied, “but I believe time is one of the few things that is on our side. Our tale begins with a brilliant man by the name of Darryl. Darryl was an expert when it came to creating robots, but he was also a historian. During his studies, it came to his attention that when a society meets its end, a great deal of information is lost and it can be hard to determine if what little remains is or isn’t fiction or corrupted by bias. Even with the seemingly impenetrable and endless vault internet, what the world knows can easily be rewritten. Data centers can be hacked merely by pressing a few keys in the right order, and misinformation can be spread with a fraction of the difficulty.
“Darryl wanted a way to ensure the preservation of knowledge, a record of the world as it was without the corruption of personal views. Fortunately, a method to overcome this obstacle would present itself. During his studies, he came across a story of a man constructed from earth, animated by having the Hebrew word ‘emet,’ one of the many names of Hashem.”
“That sounds familiar, but who’s Hashem?” Orev asked.
“He’s the god of the Jewish people, whom Darryl had decided to follow and I have learned to admire. Think of him as the Creator of Creators.” Nechoshet replied. Anyway, Darryl saw that a name as short as three letters could make an object act, something that robots can usually do anyway, and wondered how much power some of Hashem’s other names held. Upon further research, he came across the mention of a 72-letter name that had been lost to time. He believed this name to be powerful enough for people to avoid writing down so that it didn’t reach the wrong ears or eyes. Being the genius he was, he created a computer program that would randomly insert the letters of the Hebrew alphabet into one of 72 slots until it came up with the name.”
The robotic raven tilted his head to the side. “How did the program know if it did?”
“I don’t know,” Nechoshet admitted. “I wasn’t the one who designed it, nor was I there to witness its creation or use. However, he eventually succeeded in discovering the name. He used it to create four robots, each with an infinite amount of memory, the ability to shapeshift, the knowledge of several languages, and an eternal battery life. However, as you know, robots sometimes awaken their own personalities and this group was no different. After a certain amount of time, the three of them developed their own way to use their abilities to gather knowledge. As the first of the four, I feel inclined to begin with myself, though I will admit that I’m somewhat ashamed of my methods. I would take upon the form of a human so I could read books at libraries. It’s dishonest, I know, but it at least it’s harmless..
“The second, Shual, is a lot braver than the rest of us, but takes his role slightly less seriously. He saw his abilities and decided that he wanted to use them to help people, prioritizing the lives of others over his learning. He searches for places where people often come to harm and will take on whatever form he believes will be best for the task of saving them, even going as far as to shift while in plain sight. I imagine that he’s the one people refer to as ‘the Metal Beast.’
“The fourth, Sheretz, is a bit shyer than the rest of us. He prefers to assume the guise of a spider and would hide in the corners of places where information is discussed, usually in schools or laboratories, just out of reach or sight, but not out of earshot.”
“You skipped one of them,” Orev pointed out. “What about the third?”
Nechoshet went silent for a moment. “Well, the third didn’t turn on when Darryl tried to activate him. I’d say that he was defective beyond repair, but a part of me wants to believe that you’re the third robot.”
“Really?” Orev asked. “What made you reach that conclusion?”
“There’s one other way to gather information,” Nechoshet explained. “It’s something that the rest of us don’t have the ability to do. You can ask questions directly.”
Orev shook his head. “But a lot of robots can—” he paused, “Wait a minute. Shual was the name written on one of the stands around the place where I woke up! I thought he was the only survivor.”
“Shual insisted on setting up decoys just before we left to make it seem like we all burned with the rest of Darryl’s work,” Nechoshet said, lowering his head. “Unfortunately, none of us thought to take you with us. I’m sorry, Orev. If I knew that you could still become active, I would have tried to save you instead of leaving you behind. You must have been terrified. You probably spent the past few years not even knowing you could change your shape.”
“It’s fine, but—” Orev wanted to correct him, to tell him that robots don’t feel fear, yet looking back, he couldn’t describe the thing that coursed through his being that day, telling him to avoid the flames. “I … I felt. We’re not supposed to feel. Why did I feel?”
“Even among the robots that are deemed abnormal, we stand out as abnormalities among abnormalities,” Nechoshet said. “We’re as close as something can get to being alive without being alive. We can think, feel and act without someone telling us to, everything short of the one thing that prevents even the cruelest of robots from wanting to wipe out mankind completely.”
“We can’t involve ourselves in the repair or construction of other robots,” Orev guessed.
Nechoshet nodded. “There are only four of us. There may come a day when there are fewer, but there will never be more,” he sighed. “At least, I hope so. You see, something else Darryl discovered is that humans tend to weaponize new discoveries. There will always be someone who will see something new and wonder how many people they can kill with it. The Metal Beast is sometimes viewed as a symbol of the unobtainable. Once someone manages to capture him or any of us and figure out what makes us tick, mankind will be too busy celebrating to notice if someone uses that knowledge to create a real monster, one designed to kill whomever the creator wants and then some. If enough are made, it will make the Laughing War look like a game of house.”
“The what?” Orev asked.
“Long story short, there was a war in which people laughed when their comrades died since they saw their deaths as nothing more than a reason to keep killing,” he answered. “It divided the entire world in two and supposedly, it eventually reached a point where the production of ammunition couldn’t keep up with the demand for bloodshed.”
The robotic raven tried to find the right words to describe what was going through his processing system. “I never knew that humans were so violent.”
“Not all of them and not always,” Nechoshet clarified. “It’s important to remember that we, alongside every robot ever made, owe our existence to mankind. They gave us shape and breathed ‘life’ into our metaphorical nostrils, not unlike how Hashem did with the first humans. Besides, the war was a long time ago, long enough for those involved to have died off. The humans alive now had no part in it and shouldn’t be held accountable for something they never did.”
“Still,” Orev said, “I … think that I should try to lay low, but how could I continue to ask questions without drawing attention to myself?”
“Limit yourself to asking robots who aren’t inclined to let any humans know that they saw a talking raven,” Nechoshet replied. “I could also teach you how to shapeshift and blend in.”
He thought for a moment. “I’d appreciate that greatly. Could you also teach me how you deactivated those Geards before we left?”
“I didn’t,” Nechoshet admitted. “Their batteries died.”
Noah Motechin is a summer intern at The Jewish Link and an English major at Rutgers University. He has an affinity for Torah, writing and the natural world.
