Ficlets

Singular Ricky: Chapter One

I loved the stories of Asimov and knew in my heart of hearts I would see them come true in my lifetime.

Positronic brains. Whirring servos. Domestic companions, bound by the Three Laws of Robotics to make life better for me and my family.

What I hadn’t expected was Ricky Germaine.

He was named after his creator, my (slightly narcissistic) friend and MIT professorial colleague, Rick Francis. The man deserved every word of self-praise. We’d known each other as long as I can remember, crossing paths around campus, each of us sharing the goings-on of our respective departments. He, the tenured head of both the EECS and BE colleges, and me, a lowly philosophy prof.

It was an unlikely friendship, but I think he viewed me as something of a moral compass on those rare days he actually doubted himself.

Ricky Germaine was not a robot.

Ricky Germaine was a race of millions of self-replicating organic nanobots built to assume any form. Even human. Especially human.

Ricky was going to be my houseguest this month.

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