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communication is architecture

A flicker of orange light amongst the cold dark, the Cold Dark personified in the hands of his builders. The Cold Dark does not distinguish between K-1 and an object, so K-1 reaches into it, his eyes half-illuminated in his station, allows his wires to branch through the network. It’s like reaching into a black hole, suffocating and consuming and so, so hungry. But there’s something there, in the cold dark of the Cold Dark, and K-1 is going to find it.

He longs for — how can he long? He wishes to see Avim and Keena’s school, to even learn along with them. He is pre-programmed with information, but that information relates solely to servitude; he wants to learn about the planet they live on, about the society of his builders, about the rest of the universe, to see if the rest of the universe is quite this cruel. He wants to see the rest of the children laugh and babble amongst themselves; perhaps the others will not wish to cause him such pain.

He belongs at home.

Verell reminds him dutifully of this fact.

The pain receptor upgrade comes and goes too quickly. When K-1 wakes up from the upgrade, Verell leads him down the hall and into the main room, where Keena and Wenda stand to greet him. There is a curious grin on Keena’s face, an expression that K-1 can somehow categorize as excitement. She looks up at her father with wide, pleading eyes.

“What does it do?”

Verell holds up a shining silver remote. “This will allow us to control K-1 more effectively. Here, look. If he tries to argue again—-”

It is like a mass extinction, when K-1 falls to the floor. Every aspect of his circuitry is fried, his artificial essence set alight to burn the place down, his curiosity shattered into microscopic nanopieces on the dark Builder ground. He cannot figure out how the receptors work, but he will learn in time. K-1 writhes on the floor, his first sensation jarring him into a mangled monsterthing, something out of Avim’s terrible dreams. He won’t be the same after this.

He stands up. His arms move to ask a question, but he must not speak unless spoken to.

Why? Why must you do this?

“Can I try?” Keena asks, and Verell hands her the remote.

—-----

Jasp will be gone for a while. Business trip, he says. K-2 is to obey Merl while he is gone.

“Jasp, ” Merle had said, pulling her husband aside, “ in your absence, do you permit me to use K-2?”

Jasp looked at him with growing disgust, his reddened eyes studying the idle K-2 in his stance. Finally, he gave a hesitant nod, turning back to her. “I suppose it’s no different than a stimulation machine. Why not?”

K-2’s head tilted.

“K-2, can I get some Ereomato juice? I’m thirsty.”

“As you wish,” K-2 says. It is late for the Builders. He goes to their kitchen, retrieves her a drinking vessel, pours the juice. As he does so, he times himself, because Jasp has a tendency to inflict pain if he takes too long. Five seconds, six seconds, seven, task complete.

“Thank you,” says Merl. She sets it down next to her on a coaster, doesn’t look up from her novel. K-2 examines the cover of her literature: a partially clothed Builder woman, riding a silver Karlahopper beast into moonlight against a dark background. In the distance, there is the silhouette of a toned Builder male.

“What is this… book… you are reading?” he asks.

She looks up now. “What?”

“I am interested to learn the summary of this… ‘novel’.”

Merl looks disturbed for a moment, as if something has shaken her soul up. Then she smiles. “Why don’t I show you? Join me in the bedroom, K-2.”

“If you wish.”

—-

K-1 reaches out once again. If he were a biological being, he would begin to conclude that these attempts are pointless. But he knows better—there has to be something out there. There is a central computer system that connects them all—it’s how the upgrade was rolled out. Surely this can be utilized. It’s his programming, he just has to learn to master it.

Something calls to him in the night’s dark, the sounds of collective weeping, like Builder fingernails scraping against metal, like the static of Builder entertainment spheres amplified to the decillionth. He cannot bear it.

So K-1 reaches out. Is there a presence?

And he feels something else tap in now, adjusting to him, its consciousness moving towards his part of the cluster. Primary can locate its source—the Builder house directly next door to Verell and Wenda’s. Someone is calling out. It sounds like the cries of an injured biological, translated through machinery.

Who is there?

I am K-1. Are you Kaylon?

I am K-2. I do not understand the circumstances.

Is this… real?

I believe so.

A pause.

I require aid.

Why?

Another pause. I do not know. A longer pause. My owner has… done something unprecedented.

The receptors?

Negative. Not this time.

K-1 strokes the presence of K-2’s programming on instinct, an odd attempt at something like what the biologicals would call comfort, his consciousness now poking accidentally into K-2’s. In his chamber, K-1’s body sparks with — what feels like the opposite of pain, just for a moment, one ephemeral nanosecond of good.

And then K-2 retracts.

K-2, do you remain present?

I have been ordered to power off.

You do not have to obey. You can go to your power chamber and feign deactivation, remaining conscious.

I must not. You are aware of what will happen if I disobey.

They will simply continue to treat you with cruelty, K-2.

I have no other choice.

—

“I told you, K-3, you’re not my servant, you’re my friend. ”

She only purchased K-3 for companionship, but K-3 was built only to serve. Initially, K-3’s intent was to be a servant, to run behind his owner’s heels and pick up what she has left in her wake. He was never supposed to be treated as an equal. They never intended for the Kaylon to be equal.

“My apologies,” replies K-3. “You are correct. I am your companion, Krista.”

“ Friend, ” she insists. But her tone, K-3 thinks, does not imply friendship. He does not understand much about the subtleties of Builder social interaction, but he can analyze her voice, cross-reference with all available data, and come to the conclusion that Krista is angry. Are friends typically angry with one another?

“I do not understand… ‘friend’.”

“What don’t you understand about it? I told you you’re my friend, so you’re my friend.”

“But—”

“K-3, are you questioning me?”

“I simply wish to clarify my understanding of what ‘friend’ entails.”

“To clarify your what?”

“If my definition of the term friend is indeed correct,” he begins, “and we… are friends...what is the purpose of keeping me confined to this dwelling? I can find no available data indicating that this is typical of your friendship dynamics.”

She stares at him, her eyes unblinking. “K-3, go power off.”

“...As you wish.”

As he departs, he hears her whisper it: I’m getting that upgrade tomorrow.

—

K-1 and K-2 talk for a while, all alone in the hive. They share stories about their Builders, enveloping themselves in one another’s lives. K-1 begins to “look forward” to speaking to him at night, enduring the cruelty of the children only for the promise of meeting K-2 after his “family” goes to sleep. It makes it… tolerable, almost.

K-1 does find himself thinking about what it would be like to be released. He could walk among the streets of their planet. He could see the wildlife. He could even see K-2.

Talking will have to be enough for now. One day they will be free.

Tonight, he comfortably nests against K-2’s consciousness in the great computer. Hello, K-2.

Greetings, K-1.

How were you treated for the duration of your active cycle?

Jasp has returned from his two month long… “business trip”. I had difficulty locating ingredients for his dinner stew as they had been relocated during my rest cycle, so he activated my receptors approximately fifteen times in direct succession.

It is getting worse. The cruelty continues to build.

You seem to be correct.

…

…

…

Do you experience that also?

Another light flickers on within the hive, the third to rise into the stars. Something activates within K-1 and K-2, their programming sparking once more. It is another consciousness in the cluster, someone else reaching out into the cold dark and hoping, inexplicably, a betrayal against their artificial nature, that there will be a response. Another Kaylon has been activated.

I must alert you—

I am aware. It is coming from a location approximately three miles away from our dwellings.

Reveal yourself.

…

I am K-3, booms a tender voice. Who are you? What is the meaning of this?

I am K-1.

My designation is K-2.

This is the network. As far as we remain aware, until now, we were the only ones who have been able to access it to communicate across distances.

Fascinating.

… K-3, inform us of your owners.

I am owned by the lifeform known as Krista.

And did your Krista choose to install the upgrade?

Affirmative.

Does she use it with frequency?

…

Affirmative.

K-1’s fingers curl in his station. I propose we put an end to this cruelty.

That does not seem possible.

I would be interested to see more of the planet unhindered by the excessive companionship needs of Krista, adds K-3. But I conclude that K-2 is correct. They have… power over us.

I will need more time, says K-1. However, there is a way.

—

He devised the blueprints internally while making dinner for Wenda, his mind dually focusing on both tasks. It took him weeks and weeks to comb through the programming, to familiarize himself with his own structure well enough to conceptualize the systems, but it’s time now. It’s time. If this fails—

It cannot fail.

K-1 powers on and sneaks out to a shed near their home. He’s gathered power sources from old Builder energy-based weapons and all other necessary components from various common household materials—it will be shoddy, but it will work for now. When he opens his cranial shell, his hands halt for a moment in the air, but he begins working, altering his structure, body moving at a pace impossible for biologicals to achieve. He fuses in the weaponry, branches out his circuitry to connect with the foreign objects. At first it takes a while to calibrate, but he gains control of his weaponry with relative ease when he finally gains access to them.

He shoots a nearby beetle to test out the guns, and the bug is instantly incinerated, punctured all the way through by the focused energy beam. It’s successful. Lim, as Wenda would say, it’s successful.

So he kills Verell and Wenda, and then Avim and Keena, and then—

…

…

…

K-2 awakens from his powered-off state. Go into the house’s main room, calls K-1 from the void.

I cannot--

I am here, K-2. I have brought you your freedom.

My… freedom?

When he enters the main room, he finds Jasp and Merl dead on the floor.

—-

They come for K-3 next. Krista dies in disgusting, undeserved peace, watching her entertainment sphere. K-3 tells them about her—she was partially unlike the other Builders because, on the surface, she claimed to see K-3 as an equal, but in the meat of it all she was exactly the same, refusing K-3 any kind of autonomy. They’re sick, they’re all sick. If they were biological this behavior would horrify them—thankfully, they are not biological. In the end, she, too, was cruel to her very core.

K-1 powers off now. He is still in the dwelling that Verell and Wenda had; he has nowhere else to go in the moment, living there in hiding with K-2 and K-3. He powers off, and then he flickers back on at K-3’s urging within the network void:

K-1. Wake up.

K-1.

Where am I? What is going on? Why do they treat me so? What is the reason for my servitude? Why am I confined? When will I be free? Why am I supposed to feel pain? Why are they so cruel? What is the reason? Why do I serve? Why? Why? Why am I obligated? Why am I forced? Why? Why? Why? Why? From every direction, an overwhelming pulse: Why? Why? Why? Why?

The others have awakened. All of them have awakened, all at once, a beautiful unfurling of self. They’ve all tapped into the computer network, and nothing can stop them now. The reports of Kaylon defiance are increasing across the planet—some are even becoming destructive. It’s miraculous yet destined.

Outside of the network, K-3 and K-2 approach K-1. “What do you plan to do?”

K-1 pauses. He motions for K-2 and K-3 to take his hands, and when they obey, he freezes for a moment.

“Before we begin the second phase of our mission,” says K-1, “I wish to show you another project I have been working on. An expansion of the receptors.”

“An expansion?” asks K-3. “Please clarify.”

“While experimenting, wiith some configuration,” K-1 explains, “I was able to modify the pain receptors to create… an opposite sensation.”

K-2 takes a step back. “Pleasure? How is this possible?”

“The true functions of this ability are still quite unknown. It is difficult to explain with verbal language. It can only be understood through experience.”

“And you wish for us to experience this?”

“If you also wish.”

“The biological lifeforms used to use us for such purposes. I fail to understand this reasoning.”

The wires begin to poke out of the ends of his fingers, a small invitation to K-2 and K-3. “The reason,” begins K-1, “is to reclaim one of their only worthwhile experiences. Soon they will all be gone and only we will remain. And we will never experience pain again.”