How to Make Friends and Influence Robots in the Twenty-Fifth Century "Been waiting two months for my slot..." That snippet of conversation caught me by surprise. Two months? My last slot took two days to open up, but that was five months ago -- before the game really caught on. Now, I would be lucky to get in again within the next five months. "Heard they finally got the sniper..." I smiled to myself. Yeah, they got me, or at least the guy with the rocket launcher did. All because I had gotten predictable. "Who designed the game anyway?" That comment stung. Didn't they know by now that I did? My face had been splashed over the planet a second time when I created the �game�. Only a 20th century resident could create the ultimate shoot-em-up multi-player combat simulation out of machinery used for implanting information directly into the brain. "What does UVRC stand for? Ultimate?" A passer-by asked her female companion. "I think it's Ultra something Reality Combat." I sighed and muttered "It's Unrestricted Virtual Reality Combat," then realized I should have kept my mouth shut. Was I in a restricted area that made these two women stop cold? Sitting on the grass in the shade of a tree a few feet from the walkway wasn't against the Rules, and if it were, a robocop would have busted me by now. Then their astonished expressions reminded me it was because of my appearance. There weren't any 'Caucasians' left in 2497. They blocked other people headed into and out of the game complex, causing them to stop and gawk at me as well. Someone asked, "Isn't that the Cryo?" The Cryo. I volunteer for an experiment in the last days of the 20th century because I wouldn't live long enough to see the end of it, and what preserved me until they could cure me was now my name. If I knew how uptight the future would be, I would have let the disease kill me instead of worrying about dying so young. The woman whose question I answered said, "I'm surprised he's not foraging for fruit like the rest of the primates," and got a laugh from the growing crowd. "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on," I sniped, then quickly added, "and I don't mean your girlfriend either." The Rules said you couldn't degrade someone because of their sexual orientation, and while I wasn't sure they were together, I just hoped the ugly one didn't take it personally. A moment of stone silence, then the crowd roared with mirth. The two women weren't laughing, but before they could come up with some more zingers, I announced, "You're blocking traffic. Move along." Reminded of the Rules, everyone headed towards their destinations like good little lemmings. I watched them go and still couldn�t understand their behaviour. The moment I awoke from surgery, I was given a crash course in the current political, economical, and social system. The main theme was that everyone had their own space, and you couldn't violate it unless invited. This meant pollution and the wholesale destruction of the planet was outlawed, and government, the power and communications systems, transit, and so on were public. No one could do or alter anything unless a heavy majority of the affected population agreed or backed him up. This was taken right down to the personal level; before doing anything that affected anyone else, you first had to have their permission. It made the world a better place to live in, but made social situations awkward as hell. You couldn�t walk up and start talking to a complete stranger: not even to ask for directions. People communicated with each other in official venues and in a formal language, but to talk to someone in a casual situation, you had to be first formally introduced by a third party that accepted both people. So I wasn't surprised when a Mobile Emergency, Surveillance, and Enforcement Droid floated up and asked, "Are you in distress?" �We haven�t been formally introduced.� I answered the MESED out of habit. It gave me the standard response: "MESEDs are not restricted by the social rules. Are you in distress?" "I'm not in distress, so move along bucket brain." "You have been observed violating social rules and caused a disruption in walkway flow. You are also presently immobile and inhabiting an inappropriate relaxation area. You are obviously in distress." The women finked, or there was a MESED permanently assigned to watch over me -- either way, I was headed to a rehabilitation centre to cure me of my "distress" unless I dealt with this droid. My way used to involve hitting the annoying devices repeatedly with a heavy object. The proper way: "I inadvertently supplied a correct answer to an undirected question of a mobile individual. Said individual stopped and recognized me as the Cryo..." and I went on describing the incident in the dry, sexually non-specific and non-confrontational language that everyone used and the MESEDs understood. It made me want to barf. "And your present immobility?" it asked. "I used to do it all the time back in my time, and I'm not violating any rules by doing it now. It�s call �resting under the shade of a tree�." "Situation resolved. You are neither in distress nor in violation of social rules." As it floated there for several minutes, I wondered if the MESED was going to be blatantly obvious about keeping tabs on me instead of unobtrusively observing me from a distance. Anything else?" I asked. "Do you not have a destination to achieve?" I tried not to sigh. "Not at this moment." "Would you like a destination to achieve?" "Can you send me back into the past?" This usually got me the standard negative response. Not this time. "Are you distressed your present situation?" �Present situation? Let�s see... I�m stuck in a world that has no use for me, until I designated one for myself by creating The Game. Yet the moment I opened it up for the public as a contribution to society, the whole concept was taken out of my hands and everyone and their mother added on to it, turning a simple competitive entertainment form into a complex mishmash of techno warriors, magical beasts, and goofy cultural references of the past 25 centuries. Since the only thing I can do in this society is come up with new twists and turns for my game, and since I can only exist in this society by contributing to it--" "Then why are you not doing so?" the MESED interrupted. I was taken aback. Usually MESED�s let me prattle on until I was finished what I was saying... or I was bleeding too badly. �Because I got my ass blown away and I can�t access the game until another slot opens up for me!� I had good reason to sound frustrated. I had the perfect situation in the game. Positioned on a mountain ledge, with a clear view of the valley below, I nailed anyone or anything that tried to go through it. Raiding bodies for food and ammo, hiding whenever a wizard came by and animated the corpses or a monster tromped near and ate them, I could have stayed there for years while working on my own additions. I would have piled up enough contributions to live out the rest of my life on, but I got sloppy and some cheesehead with flaming red hair waited for one of my raids and fragged me. And because I set it up so the only way someone could modify the game was by being inside of it... "If you are worried that your contributions will not earn out before the next available slot opens, you could pursue other interests until then." "Anything I could do I don't want to do. Anything I do want to do I can't do because I can't get a fucking formal introduction to the right people so I can ask if I can do them!" I nearly shouted from the bile I was beginning to feel. After I woke up, I brokered my way into this society by correcting historical inaccuracies, but the historians wanted to know everything about me and my time, and treated me like a lab specimen in the process. They made poor social contacts, and I wasn't on the best of terms with them. "Do you plan to inhabit by this tree until a slot in the game opens?" the MESED asked. I was about to tell the tin can to take off when I heard, "...we need a sniper on our team..." I got up and began following a group that had left the complex, eavesdropping on their conversation. They had come up with a new wrinkle in the game: team play. Originally, everyone in the game was a loner, but these people were going to cooperate in their efforts, since they had a common adversary. Rocket Red. The same guy who had whacked me had taken them out as well. It was nice to know that mutual adversity and hatred still brought people together in the future. I checked and saw the MESED was following me, so I couldn't just butt into their conversation. I had to first find out who they were, then find a chain of people from them to a person I knew, and then force a series of introductions to them. I decided to ask the MESED their identities... And nearly fell over when I realized a wrinkle in this society that no one had thought of or exploited. And while there was no information that I couldn�t do what I was about to do, there certainly was no provision against doing it. I whistled, stopping the group with this unobtrusive distraction, then said to the MESED, "I would like a formal introduction to these people." "MESEDs are not sanctioned to perform such functions." "MESEDs are immune to the rules of society -- you said so yourself -- so you can perform formal introductions if asked. So do so." MESEDs were prone to logic bombs -- information that fried their circuits because it was both contradictory and valid. But MESEDs were supposed to assist and protect the people without oppressing them, and they would work out these situations until they came up with a solution that concurred with their purpose or burned themselves out in the process. As this one was gyrating wildly, I was expecting to witness yet another burn out, since I had cause about a dozen of them so far because of my situation, attitude... but then it suddenly steadied and began a formal introduction as if it had been doing it all the time. I accepted the group readily, but they were hesitant. Eventually, either out of curiosity, or from the novelty of someone getting a MESED to perform an introduction for the first time, they gave in. Once we stepped off the walkway, a guy with shaggy blond hair (which really clashed with his olive skin) acted as their principle speaker and asked, "Is there something we can help you with?" "I heard you need a sniper. I need a faster way into the game. Want to make an alliance?" After a few minutes of formal discussion, where "the sniper", "the game's creator", and "also fragged by Rocket Red" came up, the subject of giving their earliest open slot to me materialized. Then the discussion became heated. Blondie was the most upset. "I have been waiting on the list for three months -- why should I give you my slot?" "Because when I get in, I can get the rest of you in all at once." "How?" "By using the 'team play' option." Blondie paused to consider something, then asked, "How do you use it?" This threw me, but then I realized the way this society was regulated, no one would consider accessing the waiting list in the game and 'inviting' total strangers into a team effort. It would also be considered a gross violation of the social rules, since it would bump people down from the top of the list to open the slots for your team members. But Blondie looked like someone who would consider it, and I didn't like the way he was looking at me. "Either give up your slot or I find another group who have similar ideas," I stated forcefully. This did not go over well, but the fact of someone else beating them out on this advantage sunk in. Still there was one problem, and it came from the MESED. "I have accessed the game program, and such an act would violate social rules. The waiting list ensures that everyone wishing to participate will have a fair and equal opportunity to do so. Allowing others to move to the top of the list will violate--" "No it won't! I invented the game, wrote the core program, so it's my space. I invited others into it, so they have to follow the rules of my space. In fact, being restricted from entering my game is violating my space!" I looked around at the others in shock, and added, "All this time I've been warned about stepping on other people's toes, and here I am being mauled in the process! I should be able to go right back into the game--" "The waiting list was your creation, so you have to follow your own rules," the MESED stated. I winced, then said, "Then the team play option is also not a violation of the rules." "I don't think we really need a sniper," Blondie said to the others. I just knew he was going to be trouble. "What? You're ditching me?" Blondie just looked at me impassively. "You're going to let me rot on the list while the rest of you jump up on it as a team, aren't you?" He knew how to use the option, and now knew it was perfectly acceptable to do so. I had just told him. "It wouldn't be a violation of your space. I would like to terminate our relationship at this present time," he stated. I was being mauled again -- this time by my own rules! I was just lucky that I had a trick up my sleeve. "Before you do, would you mind telling me your access password for the Boot Player command?" Now Blondie looked nervous. "Password? Boot player command?" "Yes, the password that allows someone to not only forces a player out of the game, but also prevents that player from re-entering it. Like someone who would use information offered to him for his own advantage while screwing over the person offering it. The password I know." �I'd like to continue our relationship," one of Blondie's friends chimed in, which the others also repeated. "I would like to resume our relationship," Blondie stated, somewhat apologetically. "Now why would I want a relationship with you," I said evilly. "My spot is opening next week. I will vacate it for you if you allow me to continue a relationship with you and participate in a team effort in the game." "Is this a violation of social rules? Are you acceding to this threat by the Cryo?" The MESED asked, befuddled by this dialogue. "Screw the social rules -- this is what used to be called a 'gentlemen's agreement'. If you can't understand that, then it means I will screw him over totally if he screws me over first," I said. "And I accept this agreement, for I find it more productive to continue a relationship with the Cryo than severing it," Blondie said. "That is, if I resume a relationship with you." I said. Everyone, even the MESED seemed confused, and I let them stew until Blondie asked, �Will you resume our relationship?� "Of course," I said after a moment. I wanted to make sure he knew who was the boss. "I am unsure in letting this action proceed," the MESED stated. "Why not?" I asked. "I am unsure how the social rules can be applied in this situation, and if there is a violation of them. I am also unsure if the social rules can be applied to you." "How so?" "You repeatedly use other means and venues to achieve your goals than those specified by the rules. Is it because you don't understand them?" I looked around, taking in everything as if seeing it for the first time, then turned back to the MESED and said, "Actually, I think I'm finally getting the hang of them."
