Simple Needs

By GABRIEL FREEMAN

Sometime in the mid-22nd century, Manuel Egenbra, a droid-technician is maintaining the droids that are supporting the special needs residents that live in the base of Phobos, the moon of Mars. Life is looking normal, when an open revolt happens in the base, and most of the droids are destroyed. The United Earth Government declines his request to send more droids, because there is a shortage due to an outbreak of the Elder Virus on Earth, a disease that those it does not kill, it ages many years.

Manuel is left to do the support work that the droids were doing and he somehow survives.

However, things change when he is transferred to Deimos, the other moon of Mars, where there reside special needs people of class S4, the most challenging and violent people with learning disabilities. There he meets a mysterious woman, that might or might not be an ally.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781447752738

Book preview

Note from the author:

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. Also, I do not hold the same opinions as the characters of this novel regarding people with learning disabilities.

Additionally, English is not my first language and all editing has been done by me. Even so, I believe you will find this work enjoyable.

I will consider revising this work in the future, depending on how well it does.

I also found the cover for this book on one of the creative commons sites, but I forgot to make a note of the artist’s name, and now, when I tried to look for her work, I couldn’t find her! If I recover her details, I will add them here.

That being said, enjoy!

Gabriel Freeman

Simple Needs

© 2023 Gabriel Freeman. All rights reserved.

ePub ISBN: 978-1-4477-5273-8

Just remember, the instructor said. When you deal with these people, keep in mind they have challenging behavior.

And Manuel did remember. However, nothing could prepare him for this.

***

The all-armed-with-electrocuted-needles alarm rang. Manuel woke up but he would continue hearing it ringing for five minutes straight, because if he tried to switch the alarm off, if he touched one of the needles he would be electrocuted and made sick, forcing him to get out of bed and to the loo.

A screeching, horrible sound that made him jolt. A sure way to wake up and steel your nerves. Or have a nervous breakdown.

Patience training, Manuel recalled. Patience is a necessity when dealing with special need people and the simulated holographic electrocuted alarms was one of the tests. They are more tempting to attempt to switch off though in reality.

Manuel got out of his bed.

Why did they ever transfer me to Phobos? he mumbled as he routinely dressed up to go to his post.

Being on the base of Phobos on Mars for nearly 6 months now, he worked there as a special needs technician for people with learning disabilities who were transferred there from the United Kingdom of Earth.

Manuel was the only ‘normal’ person on Phobos; as such, he was in charge of managing the people with learning difficulties who lived on the base.

Well, sort of. He didn’t manage the individuals by himself; the machines did. He was involved in the maintenance of the machines.

Machines, crude robotoids that were programmed to provide food and clean the residents’ premises. They possessed only a basic vocabulary, similar to that of a 10-year-old child. They looked like plastic dummies, only the material was not plastic, but bronze. The humans named them droids.

Droid malfunction. Droid malfunction! a female voice sounded inside Manuel’s ear. Droid malfunction, droid malfunction! Technician Manuel is required on Area 5!

Blasted ear implants! Manuel cursed. They knew what they were doing when they installed these foul pieces of technology!

The ear implants were nano-sized auditory chips installed inside the technician’s eardrum. That way, orders could never be ignored. Hahaha!

Manuel took his bright stick with him, attached it to his belt, and got out of his room while his alarm was still hysterically screeching. He hurried up to Area 5.

On his way there, he wondered what could have happened. Possibly a resident has messed up a droid and now I will have to repair it. It happens from time to time.

Upon arriving at Area 5, he pressed the fingerprint lock with his thumb, just as if he would give thumbs-up to somebody. Only he didn’t feel like it.

Let’s see what we will see! he took a deep breath and grabbed his bright stick.

The door slid open very fast.

As soon as it opened, a large projectile came straight towards his head.

Manuel instinctively waved his left arm in an attempt to divert the oncoming threat.

The back side of his palm found the projectile and veered it off its course.

The sound of ceramic smashing was heard.

Manuel looked momentarily where the object hit.

Pieces of white porcelain and teabags lay on the floor.

Who threw the teapot at me? Manuel thought and he become extremely alert as if the caffeine from the teabags that came in contact with him seeped through his skin and into his bloodstream. Manuel looked inside Area 5 towards the clamoring from inside the base’s cafeteria.

A riot was taking place: the residents with learning disabilities were battling against the droids.

The droids were not programmed to harm the residents; as such, the outcome of this battle favored the side of those living; droid pieces lay scattered on the floor, giving a sight of techno-massacre that would make Voltron throw up transverse electrical currents.

The droids were not completely defenseless of course; they had installed in their core, basic Aikido techniques that gave them the fundamentals to rotate in a clockwise and anti-clockwise manner, mitigating the risk from some of the clumsy incoming fists.

Hey! Manuel barked with the most authoritative voice he could muster. Stop this immediately!

Nobody heard him as his voice was damped by too much noise.

Removing his bright stick from his belt, he went inside to try to disengage people and machines. Damn that I have to do this!

He knew his objective: to save as many droids as possible. Unlike machines, humans burn out easily. He had witnessed this before, on a smaller scale. When someone gets into rampage mode, the adrenaline wears the person down quickly. The only thing he had to do was to save as many of the droids as he could before the residents got tired.

Droids were responsible for all of the work to help the residents survive another day. No droids meant that these people would destroy themselves in a matter of weeks. Manuel could do physical labor but he was just one person, he could not possibly attend to the needs of 1000 people.

Rushing into the crowd, he swiftly prodded the bright stick to five residents that were in a row wrestling with droids.

The stick did nothing.

The bright stick was designed to send gamma waves to the brain of special need people. The jolt momentarily raised the awareness level of the person, making it have the mental capacity of an average human, in the hope the person would realize what he or she was doing was wrong, and thus stop. The stick only had a 37.3% chance of success.

The United Kingdom of Earth knew these stats but made illegal any type of physical violence against special needs people. So they didn’t give technicians more effective weapons and Manuel was stuck with his stick.

Those government goons can stick these up their asses! Manuel cursed as he expected his previous attempt to be effective on 1 or 2 residents.

He ran crazed like a butterfly, avoiding the grappling hooks of some of the most violent residents and touching them with the stick.

Still no effect, the residents remained unphased.

Manuel jumped on a round table and moved to its center. The cafeteria tables had large areas and he was safe from vicious hands grabbing him and throwing him down.

It will take some time for these S3s to figure out that they can climb on the table, Manuel realized.

There was a reason that droids did the physical duties on Phobos. S3 was the class of the residents on Phobos.

There were 4 classes for people with learning disabilities, S1, S2, S3, and S4. The most mentally disabled and violent belonged to the S4 class and the calmest and brightest in S1, with different variations in between.

Phobos consisted of 1000 S3 residents, 100 droids, and Manuel. The residents consisted of young disabled people belonging to the S3 group and also elderly S4s who had lost their edge due to old age.

Manuel checked thoroughly the bright stick for defects or damage.

Battery is full – check, he said and jolted his head with the bright stick.

The gamma waves penetrated through his skull and made his eyes pop wide open from the painless shock. The only revelation and insight Manuel got was that the bright stick was not damaged, and the revelation was not due to the bright stick itself; this instrument of sanity only worked on people with learning disabilities. All according to the government guidelines of insanity.

Everything looks fine, he thought. Why is the stick not working? He raised his left leg to avoid the grabbing hands of an aggressive resident.

This is getting out of hand! Manuel thought and got out of the table. He looked around him.

There were only around 20 droids left, the majority of them were brutally disassembled by angry retarded riots, who made no difference from normal people when they are rioting anyway.

I have to divert their attention! he thought. How to do that?

Scanning the surrounding area, he noticed that Area 5 had several large speakers.

Aha! he shouted, I have an idea! Time to get back to the control room!

He jumped from the table to the floor and by pushing aside unapologetically residents and droids, he rushed towards the door, sealed it, and ran to the control room.

The control room consisted of many surveillance cameras. Some of them were placed in Area 5. The rioting went on.

Manuel picked up the microphone and simultaneously raised the volume to the max so that his message would be louder than the crowd noise in the cafeteria.

Everyone! he said. If you don’t stop now, there will be no lunch today!

The message was repeated many times, as many were the different languages the residents spoke. After the iterations were finished, some of the residents understood the message, and believing Manuel’s words, they went back to their seats, avoiding the mess around them and finishing their breakfast, if it wasn’t already used as a missile weapon. In case it was, they got upset again and rejoined the fight.

Darn, Manuel exclaimed, this isn’t working well! I have to think of something else otherwise there will be no droids left!

He came out with something off the top of his head. Raising the microphone near his chin, he posed like a singer who was about to begin a new pop hit. Everyone! Gather up to the restaurant for tea and  cake!

For a moment all residents hesitated. Would it work?

Some of them perhaps did not have the word restaurant in their vocabulary. Others might not have liked tea or cake. And others might just have hated to be told what to do.

… and a cup of hot chocolate! Manuel added, in the hope it would tip the scales.

Yes, it did. One by one, the SNPs(Special Need People) calmed down. The most aggressive stopped wrestling with the droids and walked away, towards the direction of the restaurant. The weaker and more fearful ones, stopped shivering and cowering in the corners and beneath the tables and also headed towards the restaurant.

They all disengaged from danger mode in an instant and acted as if nothing happened before. The memory of a goldfish, or an overriding desire, hardwired by the habit of dopamine release of sugar? The word restaurant was registered in their language after all, and of course, everything including food, especially candies, especially chocolate.

Thankfully, Manuel signed.

The undamaged remaining droids who heard Manuel’s instructions, also headed towards the restaurant, behind the catering to give the SNPs their treats. Otherwise, they would become angry again and the riot would go round 2.

What caused the riot in the first place? Manuel wondered while being in the safety of the control room. Nothing of this extent has occurred before. A proper investigation must be made.

But at the moment, he went on, should I stay here and watch, or go and check the casualties firsthand?

Since he was responsible for the whole base, he felt better going to the crime scene. When he arrived there, he noticed more clearly the mess: droid parts all over the place. Some droids had some damage, but they aided the injured SNPs. The droids could not assault human beings, but they had to take all the damage and also help heal the wounded from naturally occurring injuries in a fight.

Poor droids, Manuel thought. I’ll have to send them for repairs when the next shipment arrives from Earth.

It all appeared to go smoothly; the SNPs were getting served, they ate their treats and were happy.

That gave Manuel the time to wind down and re-evaluate the recent events. Let’s see what triggered them, he decided and instructed the wrist device on his left hand: Computer, give me a visual of the recordings at Area 5, 8:30 Universal Earth time.

A holographic video was projected from the wrist device towards the floor.

The video showed droids serving the SNPs their breakfast. Everything seemed to be going ahead as planned. Then, some of the droids gathered behind the backs of some of the residents, who had not finished their breakfasts.

Please, finish your breakfast, they all coaxed in unison.

Some of the SNPs continued to eat their breakfast in discontent.

Please, finish your breakfast! the same number of droids repeated, in a polite, yet firm manner.

Now all of the SNPs resumed their breakfast. It seemed enough.

Please, finish your breakfast! the droids repeated yet one more time, this time authoritatively and strictly.

What?! Manuel said jaws dropped.

One of the residents screamed and overturned his bowl of hot porridge and slammed the table, unsettling some of the other residents.

Please, finish your breakfast! the droids yet again repeated the same message.

Even though it was just a replay of a past incident, Manuel could feel the boiling anger in the atmosphere.

And then, something that could only happen in a sci-fi story, happened. One of the droids that held a tray, poured a pot of steaming hot tea over the head of a tall and bulky male SNP known for his short temper.

The man got up, lifted the droid with his arms, and threw it 3 meters away where it smashed against a wall and fell flat, inoperative.

Several other droids attacked residents on the necks with clumsy movements of their arms, making their hits look like a cross between slaps and karate chops.

The residents got into fight or flight mode. Some chose to fight and others chose to flee. What resulted was the riot. The transmission ended.

That goes beyond abuse! Manuel exclaimed. Even regular folk would react the same if treated like that!

And then Manuel remembered something he didn’t pay close attention to when he was a trainee: the instructor had told him then that the bright stick works statistically only 37.3% of the time because, in the rest 62.7% of the cases, the individuals are right to be angry.

And, of course, people who react against abuse, are always 100% right. No wonder the bright stick did not work.

Now, the big question is, Manuel went on, what caused such a malfunction? They are programmed to never use force and to never use authoritative language, the latter unless physically threatened.

A strange thought came to Manuel’s mind: What if it wasn’t a malfunction and someone installed a virus or reprogrammed their software?

He further thought: But since there is no other normal functioning human here on Phobos other than me, this job must have been done remotely.

Manuel said to his wrist device: Computer, assemble the remaining droids who instigated the event.

Negative, all the relevant droids have been rendered inoperable after the riot.

Why so?

They were destroyed by SNPs.

Then direct some of the not-involved droids to gather the remains of the droids.

Affirmative, technician Manuel.

Technician Manuel, Manuel repeated to himself and wondered why the A.I. called him with his full working title, the moment that it was evident there was only one technician on Phobos; him.

Guess A.I. is not as advanced as many people believe on Earth, Manuel considered, even around 100 years after the first fully functioning robot was created, in 2024, it would appear that A.I. can never have the common sense that humans possess.

Two droids gathered a pile of droid parts. Heads, limbs, and other parts lay scattered on the floor.

Nothing could indicate that these machines could malfunction the way they did, Manuel thought, however, maybe there was a condition the programmers did not consider. Perhaps the droids for some reason concluded a harmless situation to be dangerous.

Manuel excluded the possibility of some error in production. Too many droids acted similarly to be considered a coincidence.

A droid’s head stood out from the rubble. It was facing towards Manuel’s direction as if staring him in the eyes. Just a lifeless form. Junk.

Logically knowing this, Manuel approached the head. He duck to his knees and examined it closely.

The brown oval-shaped head had scratches on its sides, possibly a decoration from the fight. Vein-shaped cables hang from its neck. The eyes, circular and white, glistened from the illumination of the ceiling. Instead of a mouth, the droid had a rectangular gap with vertical brown lines extending and connecting the top and bottom sides of the rectangle shape, forming prison bars. A speaker that sent out words that never wanted to come out.

Manuel was only a child when this line of robots was produced. Officially named EF-4, the first model was named EF-0. 30 years had passed, and this model was considered one of the most sophisticated pieces of machinery in the modern world. But, still faulty.

Ain’t that right, Manuel whispered and he began to rise.

Right, ain’t, a voice echoed from the mouth of the droid.

What was that?! Manuel exclaimed and looked at the droid again.

Silence.

Am I hearing voices or something? he thought. This event must have taken its toll on me.

He turned to the computer: Computer, give me a status report.

12 SNPs are slightly injured with bruises and scratches, 88 of the droids are destroyed.

That’s bad, he thought and felt stress crawling up his neck muscles. How are we going to tend to the needs of 1000 SNPs? Only 12 droids and me.

Maybe the next supply cargo has not launched from Earth yet, he thought and hoped that if so, he could ask them to send help. Perhaps more droids, it wouldn’t matter what model they were."

He went to the control room to contact Earth Central.

A blonde woman appeared on the screen as if sitting next to him. Long-distance communication had improved a lot since the 8G generation wireless technology.

Hello Technician Manuel, she greeted, what is the situation in Phobos?

Manuel delineated the recent event and requested help.

I’m afraid this is not possible, the woman declined, there is a short line in production at the moment and no droids from Earth can be spared.

This is an emergency! Manuel raised the tone of his voice. It is not possible for me and what’s left of the droids to tend to the needs of 1000 people!

There are other emergencies here on Earth, the woman replied calmly, there is a new virus that accelerates the aging of humans by 30 years. The demand for droids on Earth in the last 3 years has skyrocketed!

What?! Manuel exclaimed. That’s insane! Has there been any cure for the virus?

No, and unfortunately the results are permanent and about a billion have been infected.

Shit, Manuel thought, "these are grave news."

I understand that you are in trouble, the woman continued, however, you will have to deal with this on your own.

The transmission ended.

Manuel put his head on the controls panel and felt he wanted to sleep and never wake up. He then looked up at the cameras that monitored the SNPs in all Areas.

So, now it’s me, 12 droids, and these fellas.

A crooked smile formed on his lips. I can do this!

***

Around three months passed and Technician Manuel searched to find a solution on how to keep the SNPs alive.

First, he searched the warehouse of the base and found 15 operational EF-3, previous generation droids. He put them at work.

Additionally, there were around another 5 droids still operational after the riot, but with missing parts. They were still of some use in some way.

In total there were now 27 operational droids, 5 semi-operational, and him. He tried to fit his role in the duties. He had to come into closer contact with the SNPs and that was a problem because he had relied on the droids for far too long and he didn’t know how to deal with them, in practice.

In the beginning, he found it extremely challenging to be around these people. Their way of speaking was different than normal humans, most of them could not articulate properly. Others could not even speak at all and used a type of sign language, called Nakaton.

Nakaton was the next generation sign language for Makaton, a sign language for people with learning and speaking difficulties. There was no real difference from Makaton, just the letter N, which comes after the letter M. Next generation.

As normal individuals, SNPs have also needs, and if they are not met, they become frustrated and angry. Unlike normal people though, SNPs cannot easily perceive the consequences of their actions, and so they do things that the average person will think of doing, but will not. When the average Joe only thinks about killing his abusive housemates, the SNP will actually attempt it.

Being on a base with 1000 S3s and seriously understaffed to meet the SNPs needs, For three months Manuel overworked himself, while at the same time, residents would shout at him and become angry whenever he didn’t support them.

This is crazy! he kept saying to himself.

The SNPs gradually became even more demanding of him and he began to reach his limits.

Just at the point, he felt he couldn't take anymore, he reacted angrily to an SNP, giving him a direct order to… shut up.

The SNP stopped, miraculously.

That event made him think that he was placing himself on a lower level than the SNPs and that was why they could manipulate him. But, he was the one who had the authority of the base, not them. He had to develop his leadership skills, giving orders to the residents to support themselves and