The Gift Of Number 3 - Speculative Fiction Authors (best love novels of all time .txt) 📗

The orange robot, Number 3 it was called, was not helping the other robots, but instead picking wild flowers and singing monotonous nonsense. That was what made me realize, my great grandfather had been a genius. He had discovered a pattern in the movement of bees when they flew from one flower to the next,then found the notes that matched their coordination.

The robot seemed to be almost playing with the bees. The fuzzy yellow dots darted around Number 3, dancing from flower to flower.

My curiosity grew when the robot plucked one of the bees from the air and petted it, and the bee did not try to escape, but stayed put. It became clear then that the bridge connecting robotics and living creatures was finally constructed. How does this artificial intelligence go unnoticed? It's like staring straight through a star like it never existed!

Number 3 was the smartest robot of them all. I try to stifle a cough. I did not want to disrupt the harmonious and graceful interaction between Number 3 and his bees. The robot ceased his activity, however, and turned in my direction.

It didn't move toward me. He seemed to be observing from a safe distance. Then Number 3 said to me as he petted the bee, "My name, Jose Jimenez."

"O'say Jiminey?” I shook my head and said under my breath, “No wonder they call you number 3.”

“What is your name then?", he asked calmly.

John Khalin I replied.

"I am very much delighted to meet you Sir, Mr. Khalin," he stretched out his hand.

I hesitantly reached out and grasped the cold metal hand. My body froze, and my mouth felt dry as I sense something - possibly a bee - crawling across my hand.

"If you hold still it won't hurt you," Number 3 said.

"Yeah, well my hand is not made out of metal" I said and yanked my hand away.

"I'm talking about the bee, Sir, Mr. Khalin."

“Ow!” So was I. The dang thing stung me.

"In a minute it won't hurt any more, it will give you strength," he said cheerfully.

"How do you know so much about bees," I asked.

"That's another name I have, bee charmer."

“You were supposed to be a construction unit,” I said. “My great grandfather built you so I could have a place to live.”

Number 3 tilted his head curiously. “Indeed he did.”

“Then why aren’t you helping the others build my house?”

“You need a place to live,” Number 3 said, returning to the bees. “Let the others build your house. Allow me to teach you life.”

Text: Public Domain
Images: Public Domain
Editing: Stephen Johnson Jr.
Publication Date: 01-29-2014

All Rights Reserved