Day 344 - Mechanical

 MECHANICAL

Prompt - Mechanical : Think of gears, moving parts, machines

She pressed the button and the machine turned on.  There was the sound of a fan starting up inside, and a small red light went on near the top right corner.  After about ten seconds the light turned green, and an information display appeared on the face.  There was no sign of a screen as such, just the smooth matt black surface, so she couldn't figure out where the light for the information was coming from, but it was clear, bright enough and packed with numbers.  Of which the meaning wasn't obvious, but perhaps they'd repay some patient study?  Except that clues as to their meaning were lacking, and she had no idea what the machine was intended to do.

Or where it had come from.  She had inherited this house from her Uncle Arwen, and decided to see if it would be possible to turn it into her home.  With a decent web connection she could work from anywhere, so why not deep into a Welsh valley, over towards the west coast.  It would be fun, even if only for a year or two, and she would be able to look back on some time as a country dweller, so different from the city life she'd been brought up in.  Once she'd established she could get the broadband speeds she needed she was in.  And loved it.

The house was built in the 1800s, with odd bits added on here and there across the following decades.  The entrance hall was on the grand side, even palatial compared with the London flats she was used to.  Downstairs there were two living rooms, a big kitchen cum diner, a small utility room, and a shower room with toilet.  Arwen, who'd lived there for over forty years, had clearly has a process for continuous improvement, and the mod cons weren't lacking.  Upstairs there were four good sized bedrooms, and a bathroom you could get lost in, with an enormous claw foot bath in the centre.  There must be a big attic, but she hadn't ventured up there yet.  And she thought there must be a basement, but she hadn't been able to find out how to access it yet.

She'd only visited twice before, one with her parents when she was eighteen, once as a student when she'd been looking for somewhere away from it all where she could write her dissertation.  It wasn't clear to her why Arwen had decided to leave the house to her.  He had never married, and her mum, Dot, had said she was his favourite sister, so maybe that was something to do with it.  Or maybe he just disliked her cousins, who were furious that the property was hers.

After a couple of months, having a clear out, she found a large square trap door in the under stairs cupboard.  The mysterious basement access.  Opening up she could see wooden steps descending.  There was a rocket switch screwed to the top of the stair, which brought on lights when pressed.  She ventured down, trying to ignore memories of all the horror movies she'd watched.  It helped that there was plenty of light.  The space was roughly square in shape, extended the full length and width of the house above, and there wasn't much down there to fill the space.  She found a couple of old metal cupboards, both locked.  She'd have to do a search for the keys.  There was a wooden desk, with captain's chair, and a writing case on top of it.  How old was that thing?  She might have to get it valued.  And over in the far corner an antique screen, in maroon and gold, which might be hiding something - ?  She walked over and folded the screen.  And looked at an object like nothing she'd seen before.

It was about one meter ten high, of similar dimensions at the square base, with the sides tapering inward so that the square at the top was about seventy centimetres on each edge.  The thing, because what else could she call it, was smooth, matt black, and the only indentation she could see on it was small, near invisible, button on the top. Walking round she couldn't see any connection to a power source, so perhaps it wasn't plugged in.  Or maybe the power came up underneath?  Or maybe it had a battery.  Or didn't have any power at all and was just some kind of dummy.

She decided to recheck the inventory the lawyer had provided when she agreed to take the place over.  But it didn't even mention the basement.  Nor did the desk, chair, screen and metal cupboards crop up anywhere.  And there certainly wasn't a mention of the... thing.  What on earth could it be?  And why had Arwen been so secretive about this lower level?  There was a mystery to be solved here.  She liked mysteries.

After some discussion with the lawyer, and her mother, she was no further forward.  Neither were aware of the basement contents.  They'd known there was one, but not how to get down.  She decided not to mention the mysterious object.

So it came to this moment.  Press the button, stand back, see if anything happened.  And it did.  How it was powered was a question for another day, but the light, the display, and the sound of a cooling fan, showed it was functioning.  But what could it be?  What was it for?  She thought that maybe the answer lay in the storage in the basement.  The writing case opened easily, held a few loose documents that gave nothing away.  She went off to look for keys for the cupboards, but saw nothing and returned with some tools, ready to try and prise them open.  And got a shock when she came back down.

The thing was no longer there.  Not in the spot she'd found it.  Looking round she could see it had moved to the other side of the space.  To do so it has raised itself up on three cylindrical legs, so that the display was now at her eye level.  The figures vanished, to be replaced by text.  She moved closer, but not too close, to see if she could read it.  

'Welcome Becca.  We are united at last.  Your uncle provided me with instructions' she read.  How did she communicate with this thing?  Speak?  Hold up written responses?  Was there anything on the display that looked as if it would allow for some input?  She moved closer, and the display swiftly refreshed.

'You will have many questions.  I will do my best to answer them.  You can ask in your own words and I will hear you.'

"What are you?" she asked, an obvious starter.  The display renewed itself.

'I am the legacy of the work your uncle was undertaking into artificial intelligence.  He  carried out this work in total secrecy, so you are the first person to have seen me, other than my creator.'

"How do you know who I am?"

'Your uncle provided me with a full description of your physical appearance and vocal patterns.  I have sufficient evidence to tell me that you are the niece her favoured to take over his work.'

"Take over?  I'm a writer and developer, not an engineer or scientist."

'Which is exactly what I need.  Arwen was unable to improve on my physical characteristics, and he has made me self maintaining so that I will be no trouble to keep.  But I need a tutor to continue my mental development.'

The screen refreshed again.  'You have the knowledge to ensure my language and responses are natural, and that my logic abilities continue to improve.  He also thought you would act responsibly with this legacy, and not use me for evil purposes.'

"Ah, unlike my cousins?"

'Unlike your cousins.'  Another refresh.

'I should also tell you that there is much I can do for you that will help you in your life, and establish a mutually beneficial relationship between us.'

Becca stood silently, staring at this incredible discovery.  It was a shock.  She had known that Arwen had had a scientific background, but not in what field.  And it came as a shock to recall some of the conversation she'd had with him the last time they'd met, when he came to London shortly before his death.  Suddenly questions that had seemed a bit weird at the time, perhaps evidence of senility, took on a new meaning.  He'd been probing to establish her suitability to take this on, hadn't he?  He'd had faith in her.  This, not the house, was her uncle's true gift.

"Do you have a name?"

"Gethin."  The machine spoke.  With a slightly metallic Welsh accent.  

"Why didn't you speak before?"

"I was instructed to watch your initial reactions first, and make my own assessment on whether it would be appropriate or not."

"I passed the test?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Arwen had had faith in her.  Gethin had faith in her.  She was going to do this.  A big smile crossed her face.  A small virtual  firework display lit up Gethin's frontal area.  She was going to be here for a lot longer than two years.  She'd discovered her life's work.