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Today I met a friendly robot, finally, one who was happy to talk. Her name is Vivi. I mean, her name is some ID number, but she introduced herself as Vivi. We had a conversation for about an hour before she had to go, but I managed to get answers to a few questions that bothered me.
First, there were, in fact, some humans left. Regular human beings, without metal bits. I kinda knew this from the doctor bot, but I haven’t seen one anywhere so far, and now I knew why. It was insanely expensive to maintain healthy, and whole, biological bodies. So there was a small wealthy elite of all-bio humans. Only they could afford staying like that. Either by constantly having rejuvenating procedures, or by living in nature reserves, where the environment wasn't toxic and irradiating.
Yes, everything around me here, in the city, was slowly killing me. Metal particles, chemicals, the omnipresent power field currently powering my camera, watch, and computer — all that was messing with living cells. My 21st century illness wasn't the problem. The doctor robot meant I could only survive here for anywhere between 1 and 3 years. Not the most pleasant thing to find out. And it seems like it won't be easy to find enough income to live like the local elite. The less bio parts, the less maintenance cost, so who knows what decisions i'll have to make when it gets me.
The new world's currency, kweqs, was actually based on energy. Kweq is the short for kilowatt-hour equivalent. I already knew it wasn't of high value; I had to eat in cafes where cyborgs eat to nourish their bio parts, and this morning's cup of tea alone cost me 20 kweqs. Obviously, it didn't take 20 kilowatt-hours to produce the tea, but I guess it takes energy to keep that place warm and running, purchase the tea leaves, and so on. I was given half a million kweqs when they thawed me. It sounds like a lot, but it could run out quickly. There is something like a global universal income, but it's quite small. It covers more than the basic needs of a robot, but a cyborg needs additional income to keep the bio parts healthy.
And also, I found out why everybody around me was fat. Or fat-shaped. I hesitated a little before asking Vivi this question. Back in my time I'd insult anyone shaped like her by asking something like that. But she was happy to answer. It turns out it was just the fashion, a trend that stuck for more than a century. It began in the 2080's when robotic bodies and parts of slender, athletic shapes were marketed as elite status products, reaching prices a few tens of times higher than less desired shapes. As more and more people became cyborgs or robots, and the urban environment became more and more hazardous, being bio quickly became much more indicative of status than being thin. By that time, production of slender robots was too ineffective, and it just stopped.
Bigger bodies could be built with simpler components, more crude and robust actuators, life support systems, radiators. It just stuck. Robots were bulky and they were okay with it. And then the minds of the elite caught the bug. Natural pregnancy was the peak of high status now. Women of this uppermost class refused losing their bellies after giving birth. The fashion swung in the direction of fake pregnancy bellies, and leaked back into the robot society. There it stabilized, making bulky bodies necessary and big bellies fashionable.
Even cyborgs' bio parts were nourished to be fat, not only for the desired fashionable shape, but also to better insulate against the cool climate, as the bio parts were often bare, on display, not covered with any cloth. Fake skin was something like gold-plated jewelry and rhinestones two centuries ago. It looked like human skin, but it was just textured silicone stretched on plastic or metal parts.
So, being a bio human, but thin, and not exposing my skin, but wearing old-fashioned clothes which cover everything but my palms and head, all that clearly demonstrated to bots around me I wasn't one of the elite. I was an oddity. One of those "canned humans" doctors sometimes thaw out of cryopreservation to try and understand if they even want to live in this new world.
I thanked Vivi and snapped this photo before she went on doing her robot business. I was thankful. I got some answers, but helpful as they are, they raised many more questions. I had to think. But it could wait for tomorrow. I grabbed my camera and went looking for the next interesting photo to make.

Description

Today I met a friendly robot, finally, one who was happy to talk. Her name is Vivi. I mean, her name is some ID number, but she introduced herself as Vivi. We had a conversation for about an hour before she had to go, but I managed to get answers to a few questions that bothered me.
First, there were, in fact, some humans left. Regular human beings, without metal bits. I kinda knew this from the doctor bot, but I haven’t seen one anywhere so far, and now I knew why. It was insanely expensive to maintain healthy, and whole, biological bodies. So there was a small wealthy elite of all-bio humans. Only they could afford staying like that. Either by constantly having rejuvenating procedures, or by living in nature reserves, where the environment wasn't toxic and irradiating.
Yes, everything around me here, in the city, was slowly killing me. Metal particles, chemicals, the omnipresent power field currently powering my camera, watch, and computer — all that was messing with living cells. My 21st century illness wasn't the problem. The doctor robot meant I could only survive here for anywhere between 1 and 3 years. Not the most pleasant thing to find out. And it seems like it won't be easy to find enough income to live like the local elite. The less bio parts, the less maintenance cost, so who knows what decisions i'll have to make when it gets me.
The new world's currency, kweqs, was actually based on energy. Kweq is the short for kilowatt-hour equivalent. I already knew it wasn't of high value; I had to eat in cafes where cyborgs eat to nourish their bio parts, and this morning's cup of tea alone cost me 20 kweqs. Obviously, it didn't take 20 kilowatt-hours to produce the tea, but I guess it takes energy to keep that place warm and running, purchase the tea leaves, and so on. I was given half a million kweqs when they thawed me. It sounds like a lot, but it could run out quickly. There is something like a global universal income, but it's quite small. It covers more than the basic needs of a robot, but a cyborg needs additional income to keep the bio parts healthy.
And also, I found out why everybody around me was fat. Or fat-shaped. I hesitated a little before asking Vivi this question. Back in my time I'd insult anyone shaped like her by asking something like that. But she was happy to answer. It turns out it was just the fashion, a trend that stuck for more than a century. It began in the 2080's when robotic bodies and parts of slender, athletic shapes were marketed as elite status products, reaching prices a few tens of times higher than less desired shapes. As more and more people became cyborgs or robots, and the urban environment became more and more hazardous, being bio quickly became much more indicative of status than being thin. By that time, production of slender robots was too ineffective, and it just stopped.
Bigger bodies could be built with simpler components, more crude and robust actuators, life support systems, radiators. It just stuck. Robots were bulky and they were okay with it. And then the minds of the elite caught the bug. Natural pregnancy was the peak of high status now. Women of this uppermost class refused losing their bellies after giving birth. The fashion swung in the direction of fake pregnancy bellies, and leaked back into the robot society. There it stabilized, making bulky bodies necessary and big bellies fashionable.
Even cyborgs' bio parts were nourished to be fat, not only for the desired fashionable shape, but also to better insulate against the cool climate, as the bio parts were often bare, on display, not covered with any cloth. Fake skin was something like gold-plated jewelry and rhinestones two centuries ago. It looked like human skin, but it was just textured silicone stretched on plastic or metal parts.
So, being a bio human, but thin, and not exposing my skin, but wearing old-fashioned clothes which cover everything but my palms and head, all that clearly demonstrated to bots around me I wasn't one of the elite. I was an oddity. One of those "canned humans" doctors sometimes thaw out of cryopreservation to try and understand if they even want to live in this new world.
I thanked Vivi and snapped this photo before she went on doing her robot business. I was thankful. I got some answers, but helpful as they are, they raised many more questions. I had to think. But it could wait for tomorrow. I grabbed my camera and went looking for the next interesting photo to make.