Prodigal Son

Losing consciousness for a robot isn’t all that different from losing consciousness as a human. The only real distinction is that for it to happen in robots, there must be a disruption in the neural passageways or central chip—ironically, it’s what I diagnosed Sarah with.

Gaining consciousness, however, is different. There’s no sense of organic “grogginess”. My eyes flicked open with a snip, and I could sense my surroundings immediately. Dr. Green stood to the left, toying with a pair of pliers, while Sarah lay dormant against the wall. Green came over and tapped my chest. There was no feeling—he must have cut the nerves in my body off from my head.

“You, sir, took a long time to find,” he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Though Sarah’s relationship with you helped.”

“I’ve never seen her before,” I said, glancing in her direction.

He looked up, paused. “I suppose that’s possible.”

“But how does she know me?”

“You two are unique—new prototypes. You just flew the nest early.”

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