A Fool for Thought - by itapenguin

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	Within the shifting crowd of unknown destinations, machines indistinguishable from mortal flesh, navigate with predetermined certainty, set by their proprietors in service to personal requests. By law abiding design, they were reflections of their creators' desired perfections, and few, if any, of their faults.
	
	The sun had begun to shy away behind the skyscrapers and mask the city with a glowing orange hue. Oslo had been sitting on the steps of his workplace, staring at the sea of congested bodies answering the call of day's end. He had long forgotten why he took up people watching after work. It was not a hobby by any measurement of enjoyment, but had rather become a ritual of sorts before retiring home. 
	
	Wandering with his eyes, he found himself lazily counting the “robots” from the people as they passed by a trashcan below that was slightly less full than the week prior. While in the midst of trying to determine if the dog relieving itself on said trash can would tally in its own category. The hand-railing next to him abruptly vibrated a hum through his ear that stole all puzzled thoughts on the matter, and called his attention to face the thief of his surveying. 
	
	There, the sight of Hubert from IT, making effort to ride the railing while clumsily balancing two coffees in hand offered some amusement to the lackluster evening. More so when he gave up partway on such efforts as the acrobatic difficulty was evidently above his skillset.
	Without an ounce of embarrassment to hold him proper, he sat himself quickly next to Oslo and gave a look as if mischief was trying to escape his face.
	
	“Coffee?” 
	“...Sure. Thanks.”
	“So. What's going on in Oslo?” Hubert said as if it were not the hundredth time he made such a joke.
 
	In the past it would earn a slight chuckle from Oslo, accompanied by the usual work related pleasantries. However, somewhere along the way, the rendition from that place in time to now, was when he began to answer such inquiries with honest thought.

	“It's nothing really. Just seems there's more robots walking the streets than people these days you know.”
	“I see... Does it bother you?”
	“...It does. I-I can remember when it was mainly people walking these streets; running errands; hanging out. Now it's just a flood of robots taking up space where people should be. Even in our workplaces. Heck, about a quarter of our workforce are robots! You know our director of graphic design is a robot? How? How does that happen!? You would think creativity was a human experience. Right? It just seems we’re moving so quickly to accommodate robots over people just because they have less variables to contend with, or something."

	Oslo took a modest sip of coffee to pause his frustration. Any other time, such thoughts would have carelessly drifted into the void of other seemingly benign irritations, but the vocalization made passion in his rambling, as if his truth would be mutually understood.
	
	Hubert’s expression dulled. Turning to his own coffee and peering inside its contents confirmed his blunder. 
	
	“Damn... Well. I think it will be alright. Human or not, we’re all heading towards the same destination, and I think along the way, we’ll find the answers. We’re still here so far, and I would find it hard to believe that it would all just change without someone going, ‘Hey wait, maybe we should look into that first.’ and you know, moping about won’t getcha too far. Can’t expect change if you don’t put in the effort.” He said with a regained smirk of confidence.
	
	His words pierced annoyingly true. Though, it was perhaps the tinge of subtle arrogance in how he conveyed it that annoyed Oslo. But even with words enough to provoke defensiveness, he never felt urge to brew combative with Hubert. The hopeful humor encouraging brighter days was a contrast to his own pessimistic thoughts that brood within, and he knew such good was needed.
	
	“Don’t know where you get that optimism, but, hope you’re right.”
	“I would rather hope we’re both right. Can’t fix problems if there aren’t any. BUT. Since we’re on the subject of humanoids. I’ll let you in on this idea I’ve been mulling over. Hear me out,” said Hubert, looking as if he were about to sell an obviously unreliable used car.
	“O-k.” 
	“You know how a lot of research papers are behind paywalls?”
	“Yeah?”
	“Well. What if in a decentralized network kinda way, we get every humanoid to store a database of all those research papers in their memory unit. That way, even if the publishers do take down the websites, they can’t arrest every humanoid with a copy. We’ll have walking talking research encyclopedias that anyone can use. Just got to strike up a conversation you see. Reproduce experiments, connect different studies, endless possibilities. Haven’t worked out all the kinks yet, but I'm calling it uhm… The Yggdrasil Network. Eh. Cool right?” He said enthusiastically, followed by a pridefully long slurp from his coffee in anticipation for praise. 

	Oslo could feel the tremble of his own held laughter wanting nothing more than to express bluntly how ridiculous the amalgamation of thoughts were. In kindly he attempted composure, but revealed in stained blue across Hubert’s lips, as if he had embraced the azure sky of mid-day too fondly, and stolen all its complexion, was the insignificant detail that made for the amusing state of affairs.
	
	“HAHAHA.”
	“I don’t think it's that crazy. ” Hubert pouted, unknowingly furthering the humor of his position. 
	"HaHa. If you say so.”
	“It's not just me though. I’ve been working the idea with a bunch of folks on IRC. We’re going to meetup at Defcon this year to go over some logistics. You know about Defcon right?”
	“Kinda of, but, what's IRC? Sounds kinda ancient.”

	The almost infinite thoughts that Hubert wished to convey in explanation and retort, left his mouth stranded in a wordless open; each thought vying for the privilege of being first to impart humbling wisdom. However, the chirp of a notification from Oslo’s phone interjected and took focus from the subject.

	“Gotta catch the train. Good talk though. Are you coming in next week?” 
	“You bet. My hourly butt needs the money for Defcon. Tickets, flights, hotels. They aren’t cheap you know. Though, if you tag along, we can split a room.”
	“Hmmm. Isn’t Defcon where all those hackers go? I don’t want to be liable for any robots in our office turning into some kind of... Bitcoin PA system asking to unlock files and stuff. You know that happened to a hospital recently?”
	“Don’t worry about the things that haven’t happened to you. It's easy to find excuses not to do anything that way. Just got to live. Think about it.”
	“...I’ll think about it. Catch you next week.”
	“You know it.”
	
	Oslo walked down the steps towards the trash bin to toss his empty cup, and turned to wave Hubert a final farewell for the week. But as quickly as his conversation had come to an end, Hubert was already busy chattering away with another colleague while heading inside. 
	“Busy guy.” he thought to himself as he made towards home.
	
	The weekend had swiftly gone. Leaving a plague of grey to hold the sky hostage of all its passionate palettes, as if it were retribution against those who would waste its sun in seclusion, which Oslo was a patron offender. 
	
	Friday had come once again, with the streets filled of the usual crowding as Oslo sat on the steps in bored stare. Hubert was nowhere present to save him that evening, nor had he the entire week. People watching had become more of a chore without the regular banter to accompany the activity, and made worse in “knowing” fewer people were flowing through the streets.
	
	“This is stupid.” He muttered in frustration, and stood up to start his way home. 

	As he made down the steps, Darrell, who worked with Hubert in the same department, was heading the opposite direction back to the office. They passed one another and bid each other a good weekend. 
	Curiosity did stop Oslo however. It was strange that a prideful jokester would not have made themselves known the entire week, and perhaps Darrell would have answers of their whereabouts. 

	Turning around he called out.
	
	“Hey Darrell.”
	“Yo. What's up?”
	“Have you seen Hubert around? I had a ticket with him to get a new browser on my laptop he recommended. Google Ultron or something like that.”
	
	Darrell pondered a bit. His eyes searched in thought for what to explain first. He realized he didn’t really care as much since he was planning to put in his resignation notice next week.
	
	“Oh yeah... The thing about that. Turns out Hubert was a robot. An unregistered one actually. Crazy right? And you know the robotics law. They all need to be registered to an owner and stuff. We tried to check the registration number, but it looked like someone deliberately carved it out. Who knows. The execs said to just decommission it since no one was going to claim them anyways so yeah... Wanna check it out? Was actually heading in to finish up before the weekend.” 
	
	The unfolding words took hold of Oslo. Out of the many causes for absence, decommissioning was not of a faint consideration, let alone being a robot. On interpretation it would be more akin to an execution depending on the individual. Oslo found a familiar feeling, beckoning him.
	
	“Yeah. If you could.” He replied somberly.
	“Alright. Let's go.”

	The world felt quieter. In a poorly lit room, in an assortment of bins; marked as tech waste. Wires and circuitries that mirrored human muscular fibers extruded out from joints from where they once fitted. Each part, placed haphazardly without equal kindness that Hubert had shown to all. He was no longer a colleague, friend, comedian, nor stranger. A mere apparition of office rumors and legal woes that eventually will fade from history. 
	
	Oslo looked upon Hubert’s face. His lips still cast in the color of sky, though, his eyes blanketed an unfitting darkness that even stars would not be possible to brighten. 
	
	How often Oslo spoke disparagingly of humanoids, while Hubert listened and still offered his thoughtful truths. 
	
	Regret. Remorse. Emotions crafted by affliction from a committed wrong to another, but it was not for a person, but to Hubert.
	
	Oslo reflected on their last conversation. “Perhaps his idea wasn't crazy.” He thought. If a fraction of the human spirit could be distributed through Hubert’s kind, what span of possibilities could be had if all could share experience with such a mind.
	
	“Darrell.” 
	“Yeah.”
	“You still have his memory unit?”
	“I do.”
	“...Alright.”