User Interface

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<img src="http://s13.postimg.org/nrpgjitkn/userinterface.png"> This is a story about a robot, a girl, and their sad routine. Use the rewind option on the left to return to a previous page. (Note: not all pages let you rewind.) [[Begin the story]]

Sometime, in the not-so-distant future, on our not-so-distant planet, was [[a robot]].

<img src="http://s29.postimg.org/c54sofdgn/dop.jpg"> This humanoid robot was not of particular use to anybody anymore. Long abandoned in favour of newer, shinier, fully functional models, the robot was cast aside, left to fend for itself in a world too enchanted by newer technology. It could have relied on [[a compassionate human]] to take it in, fix it up, provide it with a reason for existing – the robot had heard stories of its fellows being mended in such a way. But this robot – it was far too old, too obsolete. He -and it recalled that much, there was a definite gender assigned to him - was a prototype, a beginning; and very soon, [[an end]].

It recalled one, damage thought to be far beyond repair, that a human had saved from the scrap heap, fixed to be a mobile translation unit; it knew that robot, in a time long since past.

He tried to recall [[his last memory of human society]] – but it involved people arguing about him, chasing after him. Then again, it was difficult to say what was and wasn't correctly recalled. His memory banks were already starting to deteriorate; he figured (as much as a robot could figure) that it didn't matter. [[Time was against him]].

One said he was junk and wanted to take matters into his own hands ; the other wanted to wipe what remained of the robot's memory and start from scratch. He had no problem realizing that the best best was to get as far away from these humans as possible. It wasn't a particularly happy memory.

<img src="http://s16.postimg.org/rhx692jgl/slab.jpg"> So, sometime later, he found himself sprawled out on a slab of hard granite. He had tripped somewhere along the way, completely damaging his left external modular apparatus – his foot – which severely limited his mobility. He couldn't recall why or how or when he got to where he is, but he was far away from the city and the humans – and thus, the obsolescence - and [[that was sufficient]].

The robot found itself in a small, broken room – he recognized it as part of [[the ruins outside the city]]. Here was all that remained of humanity's former glory, whatever that meant. The robot wondered if those humans were obsolete, like he was. Did they worry about the same things he did? Perhaps being mortal brought its own set of fears, fears the robot couldn't comprehend. [[He didn't want to dwell on it]].

<img src="http://s28.postimg.org/mwqgr6k3x/ruins.jpg">There was a devastating war, years past – fire and smoke and millions and millions of dying, decaying bodies, poisoned flesh and bone. Blood fell from the sky in a never ending torrential storm, and many years would have to pass – and many, many more lives lost – before humanity finally decided to stop. The ruins remained, untouched, symbolic of what had happened, and could happen again.

Hoisting himself up onto that slab of rock, he took the opportunity to look around the room. There was still a roof, which surprised him as much as it reassured him – he wouldn't have to worry about rain, at the very least – and there was four relatively intact walls. Nature had no qualms about claiming this place as its own: long, thick grass that caressed and pushed through the cracked tiled floor; fat spiders that dangled in the corners; dark, twisting vines creeping over the sides of the windows, the walls. It was as good a place as any, and so the robot stayed, feeling very inclined to spend the rest of his days here, reliving as many memories as it could of happier times and warm, fully charged circuits. [[But this is not the end of the robot's story.]]

Many months later – the robot couldn't give a precise estimation, yet another function of his which completely fell apart as time passed – he heard rustling. This would normally be of no consequence to the robot (as animals were not so uncommon here) until he heard a stumble, and a loud yelp closeby. His head jolted up in the direction of the sound, cold eyes staring, straining to see what – who – it was. A human appeared. A girl. That in itself was curious, considering his general location, but what really puzzled him was that she stayed, staring at him. [[Intriguing.]]

Her hair was black, neat and curled, tied in a loose ponytail behind her head. Her dress was new, smooth and night blue; a nice contrast to her light brown skin, draping over her form in a timid manner, the way dresses do. The robot paused in his observations for a moment – was this [[art]]? In this moment, the robot thought [[she was beautiful]].

A human tried to explain the concept to him once, but the robot couldn't quite understand the notion - until now.

<img src="http://s28.postimg.org/gcicqe9ml/2574140372_1839de5907_z.jpg"> The girl smiled, and took a few uneasy steps in his direction, the rubble on the ground barely hindering her movements. Her foot – and it was truly a foot, with friction, something he was almost envious of – finding purchase against the ground had twisted slightly to accommodate the odd terrain. A few hesitant movements later, and she stumbled again, slapping her palms out on the cold granite that the robot laid on. Amused, the robot whirred and churned and clicked until the girl was safely on the slab with him. She smiled at him, and stared for a moment before a meek greeting escaped [[from her lips]].

The robot was delighted, and they spoke briefly; where they were from, how long they were sentient. The girl, 18 years; the robot 57. Names were [[irrelevant]]. The only thing that mattered to him was '[[the connection]]'. And when he explained that he wanted to share that with her – it had been so long, really, and he missed the experience – [[she hesitated]].

The robot never gave much thought to human names. To him, names were never part of a person. He chose to discard that information

'The connection' was a simplified term for a shared biological feedback interface between human and robot. In short, the essence of the human's soul – and thus, their humanity – could be experienced, for a short while, by the robot. In return, the human could see how a robot saw the world – through binary, electricity, voltage – and connect to the greater shared network all robots had access to. It was a joint project created by both humans and robots so they could better relate to each other – and it had, on more than one occasion, prevented conflict between the two. But the experience was different for every person, and every robot (differences being what they were) – and very, very intimate. After all, to touch another's core is to move beyond mere understanding.

“Please.” the robot asked, looking over at the girl eagerly. After a long moment, so long that the robot thought she had forgotten the question (which was entirely plausible, given human memory), she nodded, and inched closer to him. And their palms pressed together, and he touched the back of her neck and everything around them [[exploded]].

<img src="http://s28.postimg.org/ej0p0lxvh/synapse.jpg">Everything fired at all once and they both fell into a swirling mass of colour and motion and noise, there was so much noise, the colours moved and tasted and the sound breathed and everything was organic and zeroes and ones and electric so much so that she could taste it on her tongue and he, he felt her pulse her terror her breath her life and she was frightened, horrifed, amazed, curious, and that was the most exciting thing about it, and the girl was about to scream because she couldn't help but notice that they kept falling further and further down, the robot holding her close and there was that cold steel again, and [[then it suddenly]]

stopped. [[continue]]

The robot noticed that the girl was clinging onto him with fierce breath, face flushed. Had she never experienced a connection like that before? Was that [[her first one]]?

<img src="http://s11.postimg.org/bounlzpab/3494256988_9fa9f7d2b4_o.jpg"> When she looked up at him, her lips parted, her mouth open to speak – and suddenly gasped. She needed to go, she insisted; it was late. Hurriedly detaching herself from the robot, she smiled a shy smile, nodded, and thanked him. She promised she'd be back soon. The robot explained to her that, as long as she was willing to come back, he'd always wait for her. She found that thrilling, [[and she turned, and left]].

[[But that was not the end of the robot's and the girl's story]].

<img src="http://s30.postimg.org/6bxuyf8rl/14611963850_4ee551621e_z.jpg"> Children tire of their toys eventually. It was a slow, gradual thing. The girl's visits were initially so numerous that the robot had begun to keep track of time by her visits. Slowly, very slowly, they began to decline. Hours turned into days. [[Days turned into weeks]].

She visited once more, a few months later, and spoke of her wedding and her new husband; doting, but someone she settled for. The robot explained to her that he'd always wait for her. She found it exhilarating, and it made her feel special. [[And she left]].

<img src="http://s24.postimg.org/v932kinqd/4140386049_6912919467_z.jpg"> She visited once more, a few years later, and spoke of her newborn son. She wasn't close to her husband, and thought a child would bring them together. The robot listened to her complaints and frustrations in silence. When she turned to him in anger when he didn't respond, he repeated that he'd always wait for her. She found it endearing, and it soothed her anger. And [[she left]].

She visited once more, a few years later, and spoke of her family and her worries. Her son, now much older, was off to discover himself – much like she tried to at his age. Her life was incomplete without the husband she slowly grew to love, the husband that she eventually divorced because they weren't right for each other. She wondered aloud if perhaps putting up with him was worth it, if only so she wouldn't be so alone all the time. When she finally settled down and fell into silence, the robot repeated that he'd always wait for her. She found it disturbing, and yelled at him. There wasn't anything he could give her that she needed. And she [[left]].

[[But that is not the end of the story of the robot and the girl.]]

<img src="http://s15.postimg.org/v1l33841n/6962134040_76b44abd55_z.jpg"> Time pressed on. Many, many years later, when the vines threatened to overtake the robot, and his battery rapidly draining, did the girl appear again. She was much older now, older than the robot had ever seen her. Her hair was gray, frazzled, tied in a loose ponytail around her head. Her dress was a tattered, moth-eaten night blue; a poor contrast to the girl's wrinkled, ashen skin. In this moment, the robot [[thought she was beautiful]].

The girl smiled, and took a few uneasy steps in his direction; the rubble was not quite the easy path as she remembered it to be from so long ago. Her brow furrowed and she cried out as she stumbled forward, slapping her palms out on the cold granite slab that the robot laid upon. With what little energy he had left to share, the robot whirred and churned and clicked until the girl was safely on the slab with him. Her body clung to his steel frame with what little strength she had left to spare. Wizened hands distracted him then, warm flesh against steel, and he waited [[for her to go on]].

<img src="http://s28.postimg.org/5vaodm2bh/1443897538_8e8b97e3cd_z.jpg"> “Please...” she murmured, looking up at him with dull blue eyes. And, as much as he wanted to, the robot couldn't comply. He simply didn't have the capability to do it anymore, for anyone. He was obsolete in every sense of the word; he had nothing to offer her, and he explained as much. The girl closed her eyes, and whispered an apology; small and timid sounds against her dry, cracked lips. He couldn't comprehend why. After all, [[she was here now]].

And then, with very little warning whatsoever (which the robot considered to be very rude indeed), the girl stilled, her hand clutching onto his worn frame tightly. He curled his fingers around hers. It brought him comfort that she couldn't appreciate now. The robot turned his head away, eyes focusing out into the wilderness [[ahead]].

<img src="http://s14.postimg.org/qan8ijwwh/theend.jpg"> And that is the end of their story. [[Credits.]]

Title Screen: <a href="beeserker.com">TJ Cordes</a> Photography (from Flickr): Slab: Bart Everson Depth of Field Robot: Nicholas Wang Synapse: Brad.K Rubble: Tim Lucas Grass: Jessie Lynn McMains Footsteps: Farrukh Lips: malavoda Newborn's Hand: a4gpa City Decay: Timothy Vogel Old Hands: Tim Hamilton Robot Hand and Feather: Jaya Prime Created in Twine 2.1.10. Thank you for playing.

Created for the 2016 <A href="http://globalgamejam.org/" target="_new">Global Game Jam.</a> Suggested <A href="http://freemusicarchive.org/music/Sergey_Cheremisinov/Forgotten_Stars/Sergey_Cheremisinov_-_Forgotten_Stars_-_01_Labyrinth" target="_new">background music</a>. Additional [[Credits.]]

Joan Nobile