(If I'm updating too fast, please let me know.)
You've always been fascinated with the idea of creating artificial life. You've got at least twenty such creations on your shelves, their construction materials a timeline of your life. The earliest is made of toothpicks and glue; the latest, a spider robot you made out of your old smartphone when your plan gave you a new one. Your creations often confuse people who don't get that robots don't have to be for anything. When people pick up your three-legged, wall-climbing robot that sings when it detects encrypted wireless packets, they ask: what the heck is that for? And you reply: what's anything for? What are you for? Okay, maybe you don't say that, but you sometimes think it. (++Autonomy)
It strikes you for a moment that this kind of thinking about how your life affects your robots is second nature to you, though others might find it peculiar. You've always been fascinated by how every little detail of your life, from the content of your dreams to the decor of your room, changes the inputs to the robots you create—boosts their Empathy, or Autonomy, or Grace, or appeal to the Military. Surely, there are other things going on around you as a result of your decisions, but they don't immediately strike you in the same way.
Today, your robot is foremost on your mind because you're about to build its body.
You pick up your laptop and head for the Stanford machine shop.
It is a beautiful spring day in Palo Alto, California, and your apartment is only a short walk from the machine shop. But the streets of Palo Alto are not designed for walking; you find yourself climbing around palm trees and balancing on narrow curbs, as you do every day.
You hear a low roar overhead: glancing up, you see it's a flying car—a Nimbus. A little over three hundred thousand dollars can buy you a car with wings that fold out, so that it becomes a small sport plane. The red Nimbus looks sleek and sporty; it's the sort of car its owner takes religiously to the car wash. Though the commercials would have you believe you can fly anywhere you want in those cars, the FAA still requires them to take off and land from airports. Only here in wealthy Silicon Valley do you see them with any frequency. The first time you saw one, you couldn't quite believe the future had arrived so quickly.
But the second time you saw one, you thought…
1) I will own one of those one day. I swear it.
2) If I ever make that much money, I'll use it to help the world instead of buying that car.
3) Why aren't those flying cars driving themselves?
Year: 2019
24-year-old Isaac Tesla
Humanity: 81%
Gender: male
Fame: 0 (Who?)
Wealth: 0 (Broke)
Romance: none
Your robot
Autonomy: 2 (Buggy)
Military: 5 (In Beta)
Empathy: 1 (Buggy)
Grace: 1 (Buggy)
Relationships
?: 50%
?: 50%
?: 50%
?: 50%
?: 50%
?: 50%
?: 50%
?: 50%