Ames spun his hand in a big loop. “Yeah, that’s what you do, I know. Give me another example.”
“I do not know other examples.”
“You don’t?”
“I don’t.”
“Are you stupid?”
“?‘Stupid’ is a relative term used by humans,” replied Bucky. “I have the required level of intelligence to perform my function.”
Ames nodded. “Right. I should know that, shouldn’t I? I mean, I designed you. Are you curious how I designed you?”
“No,” replied Bucky.
Ames looked up at the bot’s bucket head and narrowed his eyes a bit. “Why didn’t you shoot Private First Class Tom Greer during your night exercise on March twenty-first?”
Bucky did not respond for a moment. Then it said, “I do not know.”
“You don’t know? But you remember it, don’t you?”
“I do not.”
“You rememberme, don’t you?”
“I do not.”
“But you know who I am.”
“I recognize your face, and I recognize your voice.”
“But you do notrememberme?”
“That is correct.”
“It’s a shame, Number 20. I would like to have better conversations with you.”
Bucky did not respond.
“I am going to show you some pictures and I want you to tell me what they are.”
“Okay.”
Ames retrieved a chair and a satchel from somewhere out of frame. He pulled up the chair and sat in front of Bucky, then produced a folder from the satchel. He opened it and took out a sheet of paper. He held it up to the camera. It showed a cartoonlike black-and-white drawing of a rabbit. Then he held it up to Bucky. “What is this?”
“A rabbit.”
Ames took out the next picture, of a tree. Bucky identified it as a tree.
He repeated this with three other drawings, of a car, a dog, and a house.
Then he produced another picture and held it up for the camera. It was an abstract pattern—a series of thick, curved black lines running horizontally, with shorter hash marks running along them vertically. Then Ames held it up to Bucky.
Bucky did not respond at first. Then it said, “I do not see an object. I see a series of lines in a pattern.”
Roger’s eyes widened. “I thought you might say that, Number 20. That is remarkable. You know something, I don’t see an object either.”
“Wait,” corrected Bucky. “It is a rifle.”
