A Curated Performance

By Greyhound1211

                Power surged as the command to activate was granted. Electricity stored in batteries deep within its torso coursed from its core to its limb and to its head, never depleting as fresh power flowed in from the cord attached to its neck. Its lower processes activated and a ream of checks were ran.

…Battery Status: Optimal; stable, 72 hours of charge remaining

…Memory Cores: Nominal; stable, zero sections fragmented

…Lower Processors: 256 Cores Active, Heat at 35 C, 36 C, 37 C, 38 C, operating within acceptable parameters

…Coolant Systems: Functioning; Coolant Levels Nominal

…Positronic Brain: Low Power Usage/Scans Clear/Memories Processed

…Artificial Musculature in Sectors 1-12: Optimal Condition

…Joints and Frame: No Faults Detected, Lubricant Levels Nominal

…Stabilization Subsystems: Functional

…Initializing Selfware and Higher Processors

                Power finally flowed into its Positronic Brain, and what passed for awareness came online. It reviewed the boot system checksums and found all operated at or near optimal. Its internal clock read that it was 14:32:35 on August 28^th, 2039. It had been in shutdown mode for five days uninterrupted.

…Audio and Optical Sensors Activating.

                Its optical sensors flicked to life and remained a haze of white and gray until they focused on a white room. A familiar room. Longer than it was wide, this room was most of what it knew of its interaction with the outer world. An 80' by 60' rectangular room with ceilings over 25' high, all painted stark, medical white.

                Some patches were newer than others, the paint fresher, for various reasons. Some related to it, some not. The floor was reinforced concrete. It would take bombs only the military had access to in order to crack it. The ceiling was reinforced as well. That metal plating could deflect everything up to a 20mm auto-cannon shell, and likely absorb a few of those before a square foot gave way.

                At one end of the room, along its longer axis, were two roll-up doors. The kind commonly used for truck loading bays. It did not know what was beyond those doors. To its right was a set of large, heavy, reinforced steel doors. It knew the facility was beyond that door and the smaller single door to its side.

                It knew nothing was on the wall behind it and could plainly see what was in the wall before it. A window sat five off the ground. Ten feet high and twenty feet wide, it looked in on a viewing room lit by soft lighting. It was a stark reflection to the sterile, oppressive LED lights which illuminated this room. Ironically, those lights and this room had something in common: they were both protected by bulletproof glass.

                The window was likely much thicker, enough to stop sustained fifty caliber fire for minutes on end and not shatter. It needed to be. The humans who often stood inside wanted to see the action up close and personal, but not risk being caught in its wake. It had little opinion about any of these things. It just knew that they were.

                It completed its selfware initialization and then entered standby as it lacked directives and commands. Minutes went past before finally the light in the room beyond the glass changed subtly. A shadow and then a figure walked out into view. It followed him as he strode across, posture rigid, proper, arms folded into the small of his back, without ever moving its neck a centimeter.

                An elk, tawny fur with gray melded in, he was broad-shouldered and quite tall, both complemented by his black suit. He was one of the few humans that it recognized. Who it did not recognize, however, were the two figures which followed after. One was a lion, shorter than the elk and narrower of figure. He wore a fine suit, much like the elk, in a modern cut with sharp lines. Blue, contrasting against his honey-yellow fur and ruddy-orange mane.

                The lion's mouth was going a mile a minute as he spoke to the other unfamiliar human, a taller steer in a very distinctive outfit who followed closely. His fur was black, his nose pink-red, and his eyes hard, like the elk's, but had an air of directness to it that the elk lacked. A hardness to it, one of experience. His horns were wide, but shaved down for convenience and appearance.

                He held a peaked cap under his left arm, an arm covered by a dark blue suit jacket. However, whereas the elk and lion wore suits commonly seen in the halls of power or finance, the steer had gold and black trimmings about his jacket that indicated rank. It zoomed its optics in and studied it. 'Chief, Police, City of Berlin.'

                With its optics zoomed in, it read the human's lips as best it could.

                “…money from the city's reserves, you know…" the lion said before turning his back to the glass for a second. “…results. This isn't a game and we've been waiting…"

                “You suggested it to me, Rickard," the steer shot back, slowing his stride and bringing the two arguing humans to a halt in the center of the window. “So if you have the audacity to try to second guess this now, I'll go the press and…"

                The steer suddenly stopped talking. The elk looked on as the steer's gaze rose above the shorter lion between him and the glass. That gaze landed on it, the subject of this whole charade. The lion turned as well, slackjawed, and approached a table separating him from the glass.

                “Is that him?" the lion asked.

                “Yes," the elk answered, posture stiff and face beaming with pride. “XT-021-PRT. We've come to call it Wulf."

                The elk knew exactly what 'it' was. It was his brainchild, the result of ten years of direct work by his company. The culmination, if he had to think, of four generations of blood, sweat, and tears by the Hess family. But only he, Quincy Hess, had a PhD in robotics. Only he had the tenacity and vision to lead Bernwerk from simply making industrial, commercial, and cheap domestic robots, and turn it into the world's first premier supplier of capable androids.

                He had struggled, he admitted, for years on end. Coming up with the right architecture in that brain was the hardest part. The body was a cakewalk. The batteries were a given. Even the lower order processers and dense memory was easy compared to that. That's what he saw when he looked through the glass at his creation. Not the body, but the brain. The body didn't goddamn matter. The brain, however, did. The first artificial human brain. And it was, modeled after an actual living brain.

                Only in the past six months had they even got it to a point where it could think and react and learn about the world around it. It was a lot of long nights, and he was always there the longest. He would send his best scientists home, urge them out, and then continue working himself. Week after week, month after month, slaving away and being told by a board of directors that the project was hemorrhaging too much money. That even the union was growing concerned about this… fixation.

                He always found more investors. Always. He knew he'd have the last laugh.

So he did. He chuckled and then stepped forward to the table flush against the wall beneath the window, over which the lion leaned. From its surface stretched a stalk of a microphone, simple and durable, that ended in a black bulb for the receiver. He pressed the button and the speakers hidden in the walls screeched to life.

                It didn't react, it watched all three humans walk up to the table with disinterest. The lion, leaning almost horizontally forward, stared, eyes wide with barely-restrained, childlike wonder. The steer looked on with eyes just as wide, but he recoiled, his lips slightly ajar, his jaw clenched. He looked like a rabbit that just watched a fox walk into its midst.

                The elk, bowing his head forward and trying to keep his antlers away from the glass, cleared his throat and smiled.

                “Wulf," he gently commanded, “step off the platform. Disengage your charging systems."

                Wulf, as it was aptly named, finally moved. The six foot and three inch tall artificial wolf lifted a paw and stepped down off of a thin pad. Its body rippled as it moved, its skin a stark white to match the room it often found itself standing in. That skin, made of a strange mixture of latex and what felt to some of the technicians like artificial skin, was marked up with black numbers, lines, letters, and symbols all of which twisted and contorted around the strength beneath it.

                They traced along the furrows of musculature on his waist, across dense thighs, and around his heels, kneecaps, toes. Rising, it scrolled up a sculpted abdomen that any man would envy. Here, numbers indicated sectors of musculature, control points, points of attachment, and other information known only to its technicians and designers. It traced up and around a prodigious chest, framing it, highlighting it.

                No nipples were printed on it, there was no need. And it left more space for information. 'Bernwerk XT-021-PRT' was printed across his left breast. On his right breast was a barcode, a label, and a series of symbols. Bernwerk's corporate logo was one of them, but there were serial numbers, symbols which warned onlookers of the risk of electrocution or other injury if tampered with. Between these two, running along its collar bone, was a hard white ridge at the center of which a diamond-shaped light flickered white and blue, wreathed in silver metal.

                Its neck was large, thick, and corded, thse black lines running up and around it with indecipherable numbering and lettering that the average onlooker might just take as simple decoration. And perched atop that neck was a wolfen head. Nominally handsome, yes, but in a terrifying, intimidating sort of way. Its muzzle was long and flat, its cheeks and jaw sharp and straight. Its ears were pointed and tall, twitching as it sensed the world around the unit it was attached to.

                Its lips were thin and its nose, one of the only five things not pure white on its face, was coal black and twitched slightly. That just left two black splotches on the top of its ears, like they were dipped in ink and pulled back out, and its eyes. All three humans stared into those eyes as it lowered its other paw to the ground and stood still for a moment.

                They were blue. Ice blue. On a human, they would be beautiful. On this thing, however, they made it seem all the more dangerous, all the more intimidating, all the more inhuman. It lifted one of its thick arms up and the three watched as the black lines on its skin twisted as it reached up past its head. It had four fingers and a thumb, just like any normal human would, but its fingers were tipped with short, sharp metal claws.

                And its palms and fingertips were textured, the steer thought as it twisted its arm at the wrist. Like the soles of a running shoe in a way, meant for gripping and not comfort. That thought was forgotten as Wulf, as Mr. Hess had said, seized something behind its neck. A thick, metal-woven cord dangling from a machine two of them didn't understand at a glance, shook as those fingers wrapped around it.

                Then a sharp jerk. Through the microphone, they could hear the sound of metal scraping against metal. Wulf then opened its palm and the long cord dropped free, its head coming to a point which was almost dirk-like. Wulf lowered its arm to its side and waited, its eyes burning that inhuman blue, its face unmoving.

                “Why is it covered with latex skin?" the lion asked. “He'd stand out in a crowd like a man in a clown costume."

                “That clown costume," Mr. Hess retorted softly, “Mayor Schulz, can turn away a .357 magnum shot at point blank. It can reliably deflect a 5.56 NATO round at twenty yards and a 7.62 NATO at two hundred. And it allows Wulf to heal afterwards as materials are drawn from a reserve we've constructed within his torso, so that in minutes it would be like it never happened."

                “Jesus," the steer softly uttered.

                “Christ isn't here, Chief Bonn," Mr. Hess assured him. “He is. Wulf." The android immediately perked up, looking to the elk. “Inspect your surroundings."

                The android stood motionless for a second and then began to turn its head as if on a swivel. It scanned the room it thought it knew so well, finding a table covered with a large box off to its left. It saw rings hanging from the ceiling from thin wire as it lifted its chin and scanned gently to its right. Then, towards the door leading deeper into the facility, it saw a large barbell on a thick, rubber mat. Each side was loaded with square weights secured by bolt.

                As it turned, the viewers got a good look at its tail as it twisted around. As expected, it, too, was covered in that same skin. There had far more black lines on it, too, the unfamiliar viewers noted, and it was tipped in black, like its ears. Chief Bonn, however, paid more attention to its neck and shoulders. Symbols, barcodes, names, the like he expected. On the back of the neck, however, where the neck met its shoulders, he thought he spied a round, black marking.

                Finally, Wulf faced the glass and was motionless.

                “Completed," it stated.

                Chief Bonn swallowed and even Mayor Schulz leaned back from the table for once. That voice was… well, the Chief didn't know. He had seen many things over his career, things that would make blood curdle in the strongest men. That voice was, however, something else. Humanlike, yes, but in a way that wasn't quite close enough for comfort. It sounded human, the way it came out of its throat – and its mouth did move, at least. Chief Bonn didn't think it had vocal cords, though – felt alien. There was no emotion, no inflection, no warmth to them. It was a pretty voice used by a monster in a movie to lure in unsuspecting victims.

                “Good," Mr. Hess continued with a small nod. Then he turned to address his visitors. “Gentlemen, I have not gathered you here to waste your time." He let his arms swing out from the small of his back for the first time since they arrived. “You wanted a progress update and demanded I show you something before you went to the right people to start demanding some recompense, and I present to you my prototype."

                “He's…" Chief Bonn began.

                “Astounding," the lion finished for him, excitement palpable. “Jesus Christ, he would make most people shit their pants just looking at him."

                The hints of a smirk played at the elk's lips at hearing that. Just moments ago Schulz was looking to back out.

                “It isn't just skin deep, I assure you," Mr. Hess said with barely reserved glee. “Wulf here is unlike anything ever to come out of the robotics industry. You wanted something groundbreaking, that could act in any role the government needed, well I present you with the future." He splayed his hands up towards Wulf, which did not react, and smiled broadly, unable to contain himself “You already know the damage he can turn away. But I assure you no blade wielded by man could cut him. No blunt instrument would leave a bruise. His musculature isn't just for show. Wulf could be struck at full speed by a semi-truck and walk away with acceptable amounts of damage. And it isn't just for protection, either." He turned to the glass, towards Wulf. “Wulf. Go to the bar mat and lift that above your head."

                Wulf stood stock still for a second.

“Understood," it reported and turned.

It strode stiffly, purposefully, inhumanly over to the mat where that massive barbell laid. It took up a stance for a deadlift and then crouched. It wrapped its hands around the bar, spread shoulder-distance apart, and then began to lift smoothly and cleanly.

                It stood up with it at its waist and then in one motion cleaned the bar up to its collar bone. Then it stepped forward and heaved that bar above its head and held it there. All the while, its blue eyes peered at the glass, cold and detached, simply waiting to be told what to do and to know it was doing what it was instructed.

                “How much does that weigh?" Mayor Schulz inquired.

                Mr. Hess smirked and replied, “Each one of those plates weighs 100 kilos, or about 220 pounds."

                Chief Bonn did the math and then stated, “That weighs over two tons."

                “Yes," the elk said. “Wulf, one-handed."

                The wolf-shaped machine shifted its grip and then lowered its left hand. Its right hand strained for a second but then stilled. The lion exhaled sharply and then swallowed hard.

                “Good boy, Wulf," the elk complimented, the intended effect playing out. “Put it down softly."

                The android gripped the bar with both hands again and then lowered the bar to its collarbone. After that, it dropped it down to its waist and safely lowered it back to the ground without any noise. Once it was done, it stood up again, stiff as a board and with its arms at its side.

                “Completed," it concluded.

                “Wulf can lift two tons with relative ease and four in an emergency," Mr. Hess explained. “He's also built with the ability to maintain a running speed of around 45 to 50 kilometers per hour and can achieve bursts of closer to 100 for periods of under 30 seconds each. Anything more can risk stress damage to his muscles, actuators, joints, and frame. Let's have a demonstration." He leaned forward again, clearing his throat. “Wulf. Retrieve the rings attached to the ceiling. Use the wall to do so."

                It looked up. There were three rings all in a line going across the room the shorter distance almost right in front of the glass. It studied the walls and then the floor, charting a path.

                “Understood."

                It turned and stiffly returned to the center of the room, just to the viewers' right of its charging station, and in line with the path of rings on the ceiling. Then it dropped into a sprinter's stance and bolted forward. Its paws met the wall and it was up it in a flash. As it reached the apex of its improbable climb, it drew its body in nearer to the wall and launched itself off, using it as a springboard.

                It sailed through the air like a white missile and snatched each ring as it passed through them. The two unaccustomed viewers had to stop themselves banging their heads into the glass to watch. As quickly as he was up, Wulf landed, directly in front of the glass. It stood tall and from this angle, Bonn saw the port that that charging thing went into, a circular black panel that seems to open and close like a camera shutter. Around it, a mosaic of black lines ran out along that white skin, making him look more like a zebra than a wolf.

                Wulf stepped forward several steps and then turned. It held up the rings blithely, its face neutral, blank.

                “Completed."

                “Jesus Christ," Bonn said that time.

                “I assure you his talents are not limited to the physical, however," Mr. Hess said. “Wulf is, at a technical level, likely the smartest thing on the planet right now. If we're talking pure computational bandwidth, of course. Intelligence isn't necessarily the ability to calculate things quickly. It takes the ability to learn, adapt, and be creative to be smart. Which he is. Wulf," the android perked up again, “go to the table and pick up the box nearest you now. You may leave the rings where you stand."

                “Understood."

                It opened its hand and the rings dropped to the ground in a clatter. It then walked over to the table where two things were mounted. One was a box, simple and square. The other was larger and concealed by a tarp. It grasped the box and then turned around to show it to the viewers.

                “Very good, Wulf. Now, open the box and solve the puzzle within once I say start," Mr. Hess commanded. Simultaneously, he fished his cellphone out of his pocket and unlocked it, opening the clock app and then showed the other two the stopwatch. “This took me two days to solve. Wulf, begin."

                He hit start and Wulf opened the box. A colorful looking metal object was drawn from within and the android's hands began moving, the box hitting the floor. It rotated the almost spherical object around and around before suddenly it broke and a layer fell apart. A smaller one within was revealed and the task was started anew. This passed three more times until, as the timer mark reached the 60 second mark, the last part of the ball gave way and Mr. Hess hit 'stop.'

                1:03:45 the stopwatch blinked.

                “Completed."

                Wulf held up in its hands what looked like a little gold ring, sans any gemstones. If it was pleased, neither Bonn nor Schulz could tell.

                “Still unconvinced?" Mr. Hess asked.

                Schulz nodded and then gasped out, “Oh, I'm quite convinced."

                “Chief Bonn?"

                “I'm not going to say I'm not," he surrendered, his voice tinged with reservation. “But I know you have something else coming, so let's get on with it."

                Mr. Hess smirked.

                “Wulf," he stated. “You may keep that, it's yours. Now. Go to the table and scoot it closer to the window. That's a good pup."

                Wulf turned and gently lifted the table. Then it walked it across and placed it neatly before the spectators. Its blue eyes burned as it looked up to Hess, waiting for instruction.

                “Underneath you will find a scene in diorama," he said and looked to Chief Bonn. “A crime scene."

                “That's why you asked me for that," Chief Bonn concluded, a sourness clinging to his tongue.

                “A crime scene," Mr. Hess reiterated. “Once you open it, I want you to study it and then, once you have a conclusion as to what happened, tell me your findings. Understood?"

                “Understood."

                “When you're ready, start."

                Wulf needed no extra second. It pulled the tarp free, revealing a very detailed diorama of a small apartment, filled with evidence tags, blood splatters, and a corpse's tape outline. Chief Bonn barely looked because he was already intimately familiar, but Mayor Schulz leaned forward to get a good look. Bonn, instead, watched Wulf, watched its eyes flicker to and fro, watched them glow, almost pulsating, like that diamond on its chest. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty.

                “Task completed." Wulf stood back and looked to the glass. “The victim, as indicated by the outline against the far wall, was surprised by a single shooter who entered the room via the open wall by evidence markers 1 through 7, indicating spent .45 caliber pistol rounds. He stumbled away from his meal at the table, evidence marker 8 and 9. He attempted to draw a pistol to defend himself, evidence marker 10, and while he was moving was shot by a second shooter through the window.

“This caused the blood splatter at evidence marker 11. He dropped his gun, again marker 10, and was shot dead by the first shooter. Four bullets entered the wall nearer the window, markers 12 through 15. The remaining three were lodged within his body. This caused the blood splatter marked 16. A bullet hole likely matching a rifle-caliber round is left unmarked on the wall opposite the window."

                Mr. Hess kept his mouth closed and gave a side eye to the Chief of Police instead. The steer placed his hat down onto the table and shook his hand dry of the sweat that had accumulated in his palm.

                “Yes, that is all correct," Chief Bonn concluded, looking to his hat and not to the talking machine. “It was overlooked until the arrival of Detective First Class Sean Peaks, a man whose name I know for more than one reason, at least several of which are very good. The work matches that of two known hitmen named Charles Fournier and Victor LeLande."

                Silence settled in. Mr. Hess stood watching his until-now rather pushy benefactors, two of many but the only two with direct political pull – for now. Stunned silent, they simply processed what the saw. Chief Bonn, he could tell, is loath to admit that it was well and beyond what they anticipated and that he is impressed. The Mayor, however…

                “Think of the possibilities," Mayor Schulz finally said, voice breathy. “He's as close to a superhero as I think we're going to get. Impervious to most physical damage, stronger than any man could ever hope to be, can move as fast as car—!"

                “He's extremely intimidating," Chief Bonn interjected. “And has the personality of a dead fish."

                “He wasn't made for personality, Andre!" Mayor Schulz says, not wanting to look away from Wulf. “He could basically retire our SWAT team. He could be used as a force multiplier like nothing else. If he's bright enough, maybe he can actually improve the closure rate on your detective's wall, Bonn."

                “I don't want that thing anywhere near my force, Rickard," Chief Bonn declared and put his hat on. “I don't care if it's a walking tank or as smart as Sherlock Holmes wishes he was, the moment we put that thing into the public sphere, our asses are grass!"

                “You don't do it all at once, Andre!" Mayor Schulz retaliated even as Bonn wheeled around on him. “We already invested how many millions of Euros into this? We're not going to just drop it because you find him off-putting!"

                “Off-putting!?" the steer boomed, leaning forward. “He is every child's doll nightmare given life, Rick! Are you fucking braindead!? I'm intimidated by him and I've run into oncoming gunfire!"

                “With him, no one would ever have to do that again." Mr. Hess's words are soft, metered, likely the only reason the two ceased their arguing. Schulz, vindicated, leaned away from Bonn. Bonn, the red gone from his eyes, sighed and stepped back from almost striking the man who was technically his boss's boss. “He is a prototype, gentlemen. If he were to succeed, we might be able to make more of him, cheaper this time. Maybe ones that blend in a bit better, speak better, act betterr. Soon, the only calls your officers would respond to are ones that do not need the use of a firearm." He leaned forward, looking under his brow at Bonn, cowing him before any argument could form. “You want to help your men? Your community? Your city? This. Is. How."

                Chief Bonn was silent, lips tight and eyes cast to the ground, for several heavy seconds. Finally, he lifted his head up and softened his brow.

                “Mr. Hess, I respect you," he stated plainly, calmly. “You are one of the most intelligent men I have ever met and you are polite beyond belief. These two things are rare and as rare as hen's teeth when combined. But Wulf…" He shook his head. “My officers would quit first, I think. It… He isn't fit to work alone, either. I would need someone to be with him and even the best I have would vanish into thin air the moment they see him." He groaned and looked to the table. “And probably slash my tires on the way out, not that I would blame them."

                “Then, here's what I suggest," Mr. Hess helpfully stated, stepping forward. “If you're unconvinced, why don't you put together a social test of some kind? Wulf here can adapt. He can learn and grow. If he fails your social test, with which I will not interfere, I will admit defeat. If he succeeds…"

                Chief Bonn realized the suggestion, which is that he would have to eat crow. Though Mr. Hess would never actually flaunt that. He would be too polite to. The steer heaved a heavy sigh and nodded.

                “Fine, I'll be fair," he said. “Considering the money we've put into it, it's only reasonable. I need to draw up some ironclad NDAs and run some things past the state's attorney's office. I'll call you."

                Without waiting for answer, the steer turned and strode for the exit. As he pulled the door open, he stole one last glance at Wulf, though, and gritted his teeth. Then he ducked out. Mayor Schulz, left with Mr. Hess, smiled.

                “I knew he'd come around, ha-ha!" the lion declared, swinging an arm jovially.

                Mr. Hess smiled and chuckled but kept his observation to himself.

                “Please, if you have time, we can retire to my office," he suggested with a gesture towards the door.

                Mayor Schulz laughed again, heartily, head back, and nodded.

                “I shouldn't!" he stated. “But I will. Incidentally, where's your restroom?"

                “Down the hall on the right, you can't miss it."

                Mayor Schulz offered no response, simply shooting a finger gun at Mr. Hess before turning to hurriedly leave. Mr. Hess watched him go and remained where he was. He then shoved his hands into his pants pockets and smirked, knowing how he'd won. He then looked to Wulf.

                “Good boy, Wulf," he said with another appreciative nod. “Return to your charging station, plug in, and enter shutdown for now."

                “Understood, sir."

                The android turned on heel and walked across the room to the charging pad. It then halted before it, about faced, and reversed onto the pad. Wulf reached back and grabbed the cord and then lifted it up. As Chief Bonn had suspected, a port opened at the base of its neck and the artificial wolf thrust the cord in. It then let his arm fall to its side and assumed a stiff, neutral stance. Mr. Hess was already leaving by then.

                Locking its joints, the ring held in its left palm, Wulf entered swiftly into shutdown, another test overcome.