When ethical issues test a robot’s fundamental programming, it spawns a thoughtful exploration of self-discovery.
Tessa (aka Tessaract 256) is an advanced robot model, designed as a Cranial Augmentation Technician that can surgically heal human minds, even enhance intelligence. She lives with a robot assistant and companion, Tucker. Tucker is a mechanical dog, but she has a real one too—Larry. They live together in an apartment that boasts a floor-to-ceiling aquarium large enough to contain an octopus and a filled treasure chest. This degree of autonomy for a robot is constrained by one obligation: to serve humans who explicitly request help.
Such a situation occurs when they’re out for a walk and come upon a man beaten nearly to death. His memory is gone, but his request for help binds Tessa to him. At a hospital they discover other humans like Jorad—Tessa’s provisional moniker for this John Doe—who didn’t survive. A return to where he was found produces a witness in Molly, a troubled and at times troublesome street kid. Right away the clever girl exhibits unique abilities, including a knack for commanding robots with a penetrating gaze.
This impromptu troupe of five sets out to unravel Jorad’s mystery. An early stop is at a second hand bookstore where a particular volume catches Tessa’s attention: “The stylized image of a crude robot on the cover, accompanied by an enigmatic title—suggestive rather than precise, as if the words were foreign or extinct—triggered an autonomic response from me…”
Purchasing and reading this book sparks a latent introspectiveness for Tessa about her purpose and identity. This leads her to the city’s underground Catacombs and clandestine Bad Man José (aka Pipo) who also contributes in the effort to accelerate Jorad’s recall. A number of risky escapades trigger the blossoming of Molly’s exceptional abilities.
Molly’s intense bond with Jorad, as well as the nonverbal synergy between the dogs, gradually leaves Tessa a sort of fifth wheel, often more a recorder of the others’ activities after the fact. The full resolution of the mystery surrounding Jorad and the “bad guys” who attacked him becomes murky as Tessa’s narrative zooms in on her own past. This becomes a stepping stone to a future of scientific discovery in which Molly plays a prominent role.
Mystery and action enliven Tessa’s story at the start, but its strength lies in her efforts to understand herself and describe what makes her tick. Tessa provides a sensibly convincing portrayal of how a robot might “think.” The theme of robots experiencing human emotions is tricky, but Tessa establishes a rational perspective early:
“My definition of pleasure may not have consisted of the same elements unique to organic beings, but my attraction to pleasure seemed the same. Mine came from anything resembling exquisite orderliness: everything in its perfect place, functioning perfectly, at precisely the ideal place and moment for perfect synchronization.”
The narrative retains an admirable consistency in how Tessa never loses awareness of her artificiality in articulating her assessing comparable biological qualities. There’s no desire (a human trait) to be human; her interest lies in that pursuit of “perfect synchronization,” which is what propels her to seek out those behind her programming.
Tessa’s narrative voice is detached, with an old-fashioned florid adjective-laced style. Her haughty tone is frequently sprinkled with ironic idioms or clichés, perhaps to offset the formality. While a bit much at times, it rings true for a machine not programmed for literary nuance. Emotion presents another challenge. Such as after taking Molly in, she unwisely leaves the unpredictably willful girl alone with the servant robot and the bounty just sitting there in the aquarium: “…every action recorded by Freddy involved the execution of the little girl’s desire: first, the extension of his robotic arms high overhead; then, their submersion deep into the massive tank where lay the chest that Molly coveted; the intricately performed manipulation of his articulated hands; the grasping of an impressive booty composed of gold and jewels…”
Because Tessa can’t express anger toward someone she’s programmed to serve, the best that can be done is deflect such feelings for an indirect effect. This actually works often to a degree the mechanical narrator becomes relatable at a human level. The latter parts encompass a longer span of story time and these chapters can feel out of proportion. The ending, however, offers an elegant conclusion to Tessa’s story.
Preceding each chapter is an AI-generated snapshot representing an upcoming moment. These can help orient the reader to a point, as most are close-ups with a Hollywood-heroic flavor. It would have been nice to see more of Tessa’s broader urban world, however, as what is portrayed is rather thin beyond her immediate surroundings.
I, Robot Tessa blends action with a sublime representation of an advanced robot’s logical processes. Its mechanical narrator deftly delineates the line between the objective reasoning of robot “minds” and those of subjective humans. Tessa gives a perspective that balances the touching with the technological.
The post I, Robot Tessa by Joel R. Dennstedt appeared first on Independent Book Review.