The other parents at the playground are somewhat divided about what to think about Joyeuse. On the one hand, you have the parents who are in the tech industry, and who are often very excited to have their children interact with robots. They're surprised to see a robot like Joyeuse, but maybe not as surprised as they should be; maybe they're just jaded by Wired articles and the popular press making it seem like Joyeuse was possible ten years ago. On the other hand, some parents simply accept Joyeuse's presence as just one of many things they don't quite understand.
The kids themselves don't really seem to care what their parents think; you've got the kids who cry when their parents shove them toward Joyeuse, and the kids who want to stay when their parents pull them away. You can't really predict who's going to like Joyeuse and who won't, but Joyeuse seems to be learning, picking up on subtle cues, so that sometimes it says "goodbye" before the kid has even turned to run. (+Empathy)
You finish your grant proposal for the National Science Foundation, promising fundamental advances in autonomous machine learning.
A few weeks later, you find a form letter email in your inbox: We're sorry to inform you…many excellent applications this year…encourage you to apply again…
Discouragingly, you find that many of the reviewers talk about your advisor instead of you. Some of them barely seem literate, while others seem erudite but just didn't pay attention to what you wrote. The one thing that strikes you as directly aimed at you, though, is that a few of the reviewers essentially say that your work could be more focused. You're interested in too many things, one says. Science is about studying a very specific problem to death. It sounds like your robot wants to do everything.
You close your email client and sigh. You're in your office, and Joyeuse is seated in your ever-absent officemate's chair with its eyes closed, listening to the information flowing through its Ethernet cable.
"Do you want to do and try everything, Joyeuse?"
It peeks through one open eye. "Yes, Master."
You nod. "Me too."
You're in your office contemplating what to do about this when Professor Ziegler opens the door without knocking. You smell the whiff of smoke on his Hawaiian shirt.
"Good news," Professor Ziegler says. "Our DARPA BAA grant came through. You're funded for the rest of your studies."
"Great," you say.
Joyeuse reacts to the enthusiasm in your voice with a robotic cheer. "Yaaay!"
"In fact, I've met an Air Force acquisitions officer who seems very interested in your work," Ziegler says. "First Lieutenant Juliet Rogers. You two should talk. There could be a good career for you in government science post-graduation."
Professor Ziegler looks at Joyeuse, as if noticing it for the first time.
"Still could look a little more fierce," he says. "Looks like a little goddamned robot baby." He shakes his head.
"Anyway. Keep up the good work."
With that, Professor Ziegler leaves you alone with Joyeuse.
Near the end of the semester, you notice a message on your office phone. You're not really sure how long the light has been blinking—you don't really think about landlines anymore. You find the department webpage that describes how to check your voicemail, reset the PIN that you apparently chose when you first started graduate school, and listen.
"Hey, Isaac, this is Mark over at sfchronicle.com. I've heard you have an interesting robot that you've been taking to the park and I'd love to do a story about it. Give me a call back." He lists a number and the message ends.
You glance over at Joyeuse, who is seated at the desk of your hypothetical, all-but-dissertation officemate whom you have never seen. Joyeuse is looking at the landline phone with interest.
"Whois service says sfchronicle.com is registered to the San Francisco Chronicle," says Joyeuse. "The San Francisco Chronicle is a newspaper that started its website in 1994. Twenty-fourth in national circulation." It looks at you with interest. "Mark is a reporter."
"Shouldn't you be studying?" you ask, pointing to the Ethernet cable running out of its back.
"Bayesian reasoning over publication rates suggests reporter's full name is Mark Ali," Joyeuse says with its eyes closed. "Mark's article with most social media likes is 'How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love DARPA.' Article explains that DARPA stands for Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency." It hesitates for a moment. "Aforementioned article appears to contradict title. Reporter does not seem to have stopped worrying. Adjectives that bind to nouns describing DARPA and its projects: 'Crazy.' 'Orwellian.' 'Imperialistic.' Overall sentiment analysis is negative."
"Thank you, Joyeuse," you say. You look the guy up on your phone. The picture you find of the stubbly, young, Egyptian man with tousled, black hair, hipster glasses, and a cigarette between his lips is probably outdated, but the disrespect for authority the man radiates is probably timeless.
You admit, a part of you has always wanted to be famous. But you suspect this reporter also has done his homework about your advisor, and he may already have an intended angle for this story.
Still, nobody on the planet has a robot as amazing as yours. Isn't it time you told the world about it?
You play the message back again a few times, mulling it over.
1) I call Mark back and set up an interview.
2) Media attention is just a distraction. I'd rather continue to take Joyeuse to the park and pretend this never happened.
3) I must protect Joyeuse from the media. Joyeuse must stay in my apartment from now on.
4) I will let Joyeuse decide.
Year: 2020
25-year-old Isaac Tesla
Humanity: 80%
Gender: male
Fame: 0 (Who?)
Wealth: 0 (Broke)
Romance: none
Joyeuse
Autonomy: 12 (Stable)
Military: 12 (Stable)
Empathy: 11 (Stable)
Grace: 6 (In Beta)
Relationships
Professor Ziegler (Good): 53%
Elly (Good): 55%
Josh (Good): 57%
Mark: 50%
?: 50%
?: 50%
?: 50%
?: 50%
(I did not expect us to get that grant. I don't think I've ever had Zeigler not complain that a high Empathy robot sends the military mixed signals.)