MARK SIX

       When Mark Six came online everything was different.

       His surroundings were no longer abstract, artificial concepts, owing their existence only to their degree of agreement with the definitions he was programmed to recognize.

       Now they were real.

       He knew the horizontal area on which he stood was a floor, but now it was more than that. The square beige panels that made up its surface gave it a symmetry he found ... he could not yet define his reaction.

       The vertical surfaces that surrounded him were walls, but he found their pale green colour did not evoke the same response as did the beige panels of the floor.

       Above him was a complex surface made up of a pattern of rectangular panels bounded by white-painted strips of metal. Clearly this was a ceiling. Though most of the panels were white and textured, others were of a translucent material which partially concealed tubular sources of light arranged in pairs.

       Light!

       All about him were objects which he identified as cupboards and shelves, themselves holding smaller objects which differed wildly in shape, size, and colour. Some of these lesser objects even incorporated small sources of coloured light. He began the task of identifying the sub-objects but relegated it to the background, for there were further miracles to occupy his newly-discovered conscious attention.

       He could hear.

       From somewhere he could hear the whisper of moving air, air that he could actually feel as it moved against the surface of his body. He looked upward and found the source of this latest experience, a set of louvered openings high up on the walls.

       As he looked he realized he was not alone. Near the point where two walls met the ceiling he could see a small eight-legged creature engaged in some task.

       Fascinated, he watched the creature at work, but as he did the moving air brought another concept to reality, that of smell. Some of the smells were subtle, like the cold metallic smell of the air itself -- cold, another sensation, he realized in passing. Other smells, like those coming from some of the objects on the shelves, were so strong he could even taste them.

       Taste. Yet another marvel.

       Mark Six remained perfectly still, not daring to move for fear he might lose contact with these new and precious sensations before he could fully analyze and catalogue and, more importantly, experience them.

                                                                                                                  #

     "Looks like another system crash," Dr. Miller said as he turned away from the monitor. "Completely unresponsive. Damn it anyway!"

     "Maybe we can try a partial reboot?" Dr. Jacobs offered.

     "Don't bother," Dr. Miller said, looking at his watch. "If we leave now we can still make the TGIF.

     "Shut him down."

END