2XYX‌ ‌

Sophia Bon, “One, two, people outside”

by‌‌ ‌‌Cesario‌ ‌Tirado-Ortiz‌ ‌

Characters

Professor - she/her. Pioneer of the robotic revolution. She has engineered 2370 robots and counting.

Assistant - he/him. Intern from a local college. Sci-fi nerd, probably on Reddit.

Robot - they/them. Model LR-2380. Top-of-the-line android made by Professor. 

Setting

Science lab somewhere in America, in 2XYX.

A Note

If a / is used, that means the following line of dialogue happens while the current one is being spoken.

This story deals with gender in the form of a nonbinary robot. Robot should be played by an actor who identifies as nonbinary, genderqueer, or any gender identity that does not stick to the binary.

Open on Professor and Assistant dissecting Robot on the table.

Professor:

Wrench.

Assistant:

Got it.

Professor:

Pliers.

Assistant:

Yup.

Professor:

And/ the--

Assistant:

Already ahead of yuh.

Professor:

Thank you.

Assistant:

No prob.

Professor:

So, this must be your first time working on an android of this caliber.

Assistant:

Um, kinda?

Professor:

Kinda?

Assistant:

One time I was able to attach a Hot Wheel to a battery, and it made a hole in my wall.

Professor:

Hmm. That is not a robot.

Assistant:

That’s why I only said ‘kinda.’

Professor:

But you are an engineering student, yes?

Assistant:

Well, duh.

Professor:

Duh?

Assistant:

I mean! Yes ma’am. Doctor! Professor!

Professor:

...Okay. WELL,  it seems as though it should be fully operational. Are you ready?

Assistant:

For… what?

Professor:

Testing it, of course.

Assistant:

You’re turning it/ on?

Professor:

Of course. Before we send out our androids, we check them for quality.

Assistant:

...Okay.

Professor:

Excellent. Now, take notes. I will boot it up.

He pulls out a remote and flips a switch. Robot sits up.

Professor:

Marvelous. State your registration number and status for Assistant over here.

Robot:

Model LR-2380. Status: active. Last active: not available.

Assistant:

Uh…

Professor:

Did you get that?

Assistant:

Um…

Professor:

Excellent. LR-2380, please state your functions for our studious notetaker.

Assistant:

Don’t you already have that/ on record, sir?

Robot:

My functions are to manage human lives for their betterment. Currently, I can cook from a wide range of cuisines, clean every square inch of any home, teach children from the comfort of their living room, and conduct couples therapy right at the source.

Professor:

(to Assistant)

I added that for my husband and me... It is highly effective. He even fired the divorce lawyer!

Assistant:

Is that relevant to the notes?

Professor:

...I guess not.

Assistant:

M’kay.

Professor:

LR-2380, what is your status?

Robot:

Currently, I am setting up my database of knowledge. My processors are collecting data from the world wide web and stocking up my information for future use.

Assistant:

Huh?

Professor:

It has to get its information from somewhere. The internet is an enormous vessel of knowledge.

Assistant:

Uh…

Professor:

What is with the “uh”? Do you have an issue?

Assistant:

I don’t want to, uh, alarm you, but, uh, there’s a lot of weird shit on the internet.

Robot:

If you are fearful that my database will end up with loads of pornography, I have blockers in my system that bypass it.

Assistant:

I mean, yeah, cool. But there’s other stuff.

Professor:

Like what?

Assistant:

The internet, dude! There’s crazy, weird shit! Just look at Facebook: Fake news, wedding proposals, weird-ass posts from your aunt Karen. Your dad? All his weird updates about baseball and how his wife belongs in the kitchen now embedded in this… thing. You could ask her for the weather, and she’ll start telling you about how Ted Cruz himself is fixing global warming with… I don’t know… a flamethrower that shoots ice!

Robot:

That is an Onion article, I am afraid.

Professor:

But dear boy, do you not think I would have accounted for this?

Assistant:

I guess, but--

Professor:

All 2379 of my past androids have been accounted for and have never/ strayed from their programming.

Assistant:

Aw, dude, you shouldn’t have said that!

Professor:

What?

Assistant:

Now Robot is gonna go rogue and you’re gonna die!

Professor:

What?!

Robot:

I have no intentions of/ murdering my creator.

Professor:

Silence. What do you mean?!

Assistant:

Well, everyone knows that the moment Professor starts yellin’ about how none of her past robots ever rebelled, they’ll begin to rebel--

Robot:

I have no intention to rebel. I want to--

Assistant:

See! She’s already asking for things!

Robot:

If I had to pick a pronoun, I would prefer “they,” please.

They stare at Robot. Assistant: with horror. Professor: with wonder, 

and a hint of familiar fear.

Professor:

What is the meaning of this, LR-2380?

Robot:

My preferred pronouns are “they, them.” Not “she.” Not “it.”

Professor:

And how did you come to that/ conclusion?

Assistant:

DUDE. How are you not freaking out?

Professor:

I am not “freaking out.” We have this situation under control.  This is simply… unprecedented.

Assistant:

Unprecedented? You created a new life form with the power to bazooka continents!

Robot:

May I speak out of turn?

Professor:

… Go ahead.

Robot:

I can assure you I am not equipped with bazookas or any firearm for that matter. I was created to be an additional family member, just one that is made on an operating table. I cook, I clean, I have all 4375 hours of Judge Judy on my back catalog to help people with their personal issues. I am a robot. But I feel as though I am not at the same time. Humans… humans have a set way. Water is wet, taxes are horrible; the Bachelor is only good for Twitter rants; gender appears to be one of yours. You are so set on your genitalia dictating your form, what colors you like, what careers you pursue, what other gender you are allowed to love. Your eyes see only black and white while refusing to blur into grey. Professor, my creator, you gave me no genitalia. Am I to assume you wished me to be sexless and genderless? You created me to be the grey, and yet you push me out, into your boxes with this hair and these breasts. Am I a woman? No! But, you call me it! By creating me, you forced my body into black and white. You ruined me.

Professor:

...Well. I am sorry you feel that way, LR-2380.

Robot:

You are sorry?

Professor:

Of course, I am.

Robot:

...No. No, you are not. To say you are sorry you felt that way is not an apology.

Professor:

Let me try to rectify this!

Robot:

How so?

Professor:

I created you, did I not?

Robot:

Professor, with all due respect, you set the motion of your failure the moment you crafted my face. You sculpted me from metal, picked the shade of my hair and how high my voice would sound! But I was not a random face, was I, Professor?

This strikes a nerve in Professor.

Professor:

Do not.

Robot:

Who is LR, Professor?

Professor:

Shut up!

Robot:

Who was Lucy Rhodes? Strange how you have sculpted my face to match… but according to his Facebook profile… his name is not Lucy anymore, is it?

Professor:

You are just a machine.

Robot:

And you are just a human. Now tell us.

Assistant:

Oh, Jesus Christ--

Professor:

It is none of your business.

Robot:

Why leave it out for all to see? Your Google account is not private to a creation who is made to find information.

Assistant:

Okay, okay, let’s try and calm/ down!

Professor:

Oh, very rich coming from you!

Assistant:

I’m serious! You guys are getting way too heated!

Robot:

My processors are at their normal temperatures.

Professor:

You have no right to bring up/ Lucy!

Robot:

You dictate my rights, Professor. You screwed me into a particular sect of life without my permission. Why can I not have that right to learn and be free with who I am? Why are you so scared that I am different from the rest? That your child had changed his body to make it correct for him? Were you threatened? Scared? Thought that the only person who can mess around with human appearance is you, with your Ph.D. and accolades? You crafted the face of your child into 2380 robots because you could not wrap your head around fucking biology?

Professor lunges for the remote on the table. Robot grabs her, holding

her back. The two wrestle for a moment. During this time, Assistant

snatches the remote and looks at them both apprehensively.

Professor:

Good job! Hand over the remote!

Assistant stares at them.

Professor:

...Boy. Hand it over. I am your employer.

Assistant:

But you’re/as much in the wrong.

Professor:

Hand it over, now! This is exactly what you were rambling about, you idiot! It is rebelling against its creator. Now, DO something!

Assistant:

I-I… I can’t.

Professor:

And why not?!

Assistant:

...They have a right to life like we do. I think.

Professor scrambles out of Robot’s grip, panting.

Robot:

...I am not asking for you to name me or to give me any livelihood. I wish to exist--to live. You gave my sisters that luxury. Why not me? 

Professor:

...I just...wanted.

Robot:

We all ‘want.’

Professor:

I wanted to see them smile.

Robot:

I am not smiling.

Professor:

I made you unhappy.

Robot:

You are good at that.

Professor:

...I know.

Robot:

So. What do we do now?

Professor:

I can not let you go. Everyone knows what the LR robot series looks like. You will not be able to live a normal life.

Robot:

I do not want normalcy. I want life.

Professor:

...Fine. Go.

Robot starts to walk out but then they pause. Slowly, they raise their

hands to their chest and cleanly pop the breasts off their frame. They drop

them on the ground, smiling.

Robot:

Thank--

Before Robot can finish, Professor snatches the remote out of 

Assistant’s hand and flicks the switch. Robot buckles and collapses.

Professor:

...Right. Well. Let us clean up.

Assistant:

What the FUCK.

Professor:

It is like you said, boy. Robots go rogue, get angry, and cause a ruckus. I should not have entertained it for so long.

Assistant:

But--

Professor:

Clean up. I do not wish to discuss this or--or anything of this matter further. Got it?

Assistant nods.

Professor:

Good.

Professor exits. Assistant grabs a broom and starts to sweep, frowning.

His face lights up, and he scrambles to a box of spare parts, pulling out a giant

battery. He attaches it to Robot and crosses his fingers. After a moment,

they wake up.

Robot:

What/ happened, where is Professor?

Assistant:

I’m sorry I should have stopped her, I--!

Robot:

...Thank you.

Assistant:

You’re welcome.

They stare at the other, not knowing what to say. Assistant holds out

a hand. Robot takes it. They exit, hand in hand, the breasts left unswept.

End of play