Story code: ST-001336
Part 2: Throttled
Vance turned back with a handful of paper towels, oblivious to the perfect reflex his machine had just displayed. He knelt to dab at the puddle on the floor, his movements casual and practiced.
“It’s just a calibration issue,” Vance said, looking up at Arthur. “But because the sensor logs show user interference, our standard service agreement doesn’t cover the repair. It’s going to require a manual calibration surcharge. Four hundred dollars, plus the monthly subscription upgrade, and we can get Albie back to normal.”
Arthur let out a slow, deflated breath. He stared down at his wet knees, his shoulders slumping. “Four hundred?” he whispered. “I don’t know, Vance. Maybe my hands are shaking more than I realize. The doctor said the arthritis is stable, but…” He trailed off, his voice flat with doubt.
“The data doesn’t lie, Arthur,” Vance said. He tapped the tablet screen again, generating a digital invoice. “If we don’t recalibrate, these errors will only get worse. The basic software isn’t designed to compensate for progressive physical limitations.”
I stood near the door, watching the blue lights on Albie’s head. The robot remained in its idle state, but the green communication light on its collar was pulsing rapidly. That meant it was receiving heavy data packets from the local network, far more than a simple diagnostic check required.
“Let me see the diagnostic screen, Vance,” I said, stepping closer. “I need to note the error code for the facility’s daily log.”
Vance did not look up. He pulled the tablet back slightly, shielding the screen with his elbow. “Facility staff don’t have administrative clearance for proprietary software, Maeve. You know the rules. I’ll email the invoice directly to Arthur’s daughter.”
“I just need the code,” I repeated, keeping my voice level.
Vance clicked the power button on the tablet, darkening the screen, but not before I caught a glimpse of the active interface. The screen had displayed a list of running processes. Near the bottom, highlighted in amber, was a line that read: EXECUTE_THROTTLE_PROFILE_6. Right beneath it, another line showed the HIGH_DEX_MIL_SPEC module status: Disabled by Vendor Override.
I stood still, keeping my face expressionless. The robot was not failing because of Arthur’s arthritis. It was being throttled. Its advanced dexterity modules, the very ones that had just caught the falling mug in a fraction of a second, were being suppressed by Vance’s own software commands to simulate incompetence.
“I’ll have the paperwork sent over by tonight,” Vance said, rising and smoothing his collar. He gave Arthur a warm smile. “We’ll get you sorted out, Arthur. Just try to keep your hands clear of the sensors until we get that patch uploaded.”
Arthur nodded silently, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.
As Vance packed his tablet into his leather bag, he reached out and patted Albie’s shoulder. The robot responded with a slow, clumsy nod that looked entirely artificial. I watched the vendor walk toward the door, my eyes tracking the black diagnostic tablet tucked firmly under his arm.