Xavier brightens. “Certainly. I specialize in robots, but not what you may think when you hear the word robots. Most people think of the odd and awkward dog-like things or the automotive industry.” He goes to a large black hard-plastic case on the floor near the TV, which he flips open, producing a small ball made of blocks—something like a handheld version of the Epcot center, sort of. “This is OpenBot.”
He places the ovoid structure on the floor, snags his phone from his pocket, and opens an app, taps, swipes, and does a few other things. Suddenly, the thing expands rapidly, ballooning from the size of a softball to the size of beach ball, hollow on the inside—the blocks, it turns out, are each made of smaller, interlocking, collapsing blocks, a granular structure. At a swipe of his finger on the phone screen, the beach ball-sized structure rolls forward, past Kane and me, to the window. When it reaches the window, he does something on the screen, the structure reassembles itself, stacking higher and higher against the glass. And then…it climbs the glass, like a lizard.
“The individual bot-cells are made of semirigid silicone. There’s enough softness in the cell walls that they are capable of arranging themselves into suction cups.” Xavier now swipes the screen again, and the thing slides up the glass and onto the ceiling. “I have not programmed it into a particular shape, yet. But the programming is open-source, capable of accepting a variety of coding and input sources. Even the basic UI is reprogrammable to the user’s preferences, within certain guidelines, of course. We have built in certain limitations, obviously, so it cannot be programmed into anything which could be weaponized. It is quite possible of course, but the inherent, untouchable core of the programming prevents a specific set of sequences and structural parameters.” He fiddles with the screen. “Right now, I have it set to what I call the larval form. From the collapsed ball form, it can become anything. For example…”
He turns the phone landscape and types rapidly, watching the thing cling to the ceiling—it’s back in the ball form, just sticking there. Then, it expands again, dangling from the ceiling like a piece of string until it’s a few feet off the floor, and then it drops, collapsing into a ball again, but only for a moment, and then it reforms into a small, squat, four-legged shape with a block for a head. Now, when Xavier swipes along his screen, it runs across the floor, frighteningly quick, in a preternaturally smooth lope.
“My god,” I whisper. “It is remarkable. Like a science fiction movie.”
Xavier laughs. “The point of it is to encourage kids to take up programming. There’s a bundle that includes the basic bot and a coding tutorial, where you can learn to program OpenBot to do certain things. Become a dog, like that, or any number of other forms and functions. At its core, it is a toy. But a sophisticated one, indeed.” He shrugs, nonchalant. “We are working on a larger version, which will eventually go to contracts with the military. NASA has already expressed interest, since a variation of this could be used for external repairs in space, without risking a human life on an EVA.” He grins, eager, excited. “You may have heard me refer to a project I have been working on for some time—would you like to see it? I am quite proud of it.”
“If you would like to show us,” I say, “I would be quite eager to see it.”
He goes back to the black case, bringing back another, smaller case which was nestled inside. This he sets on the coffee table. It’s about the size of a shoe box. Within, a nest of tiny hexagonal pieces of the same semirigid silicone—each individual cell is small enough to rest on a thumbnail.
“There is no name for this yet, but I have been calling it ConstructoBot. It is based on the same premise as OpenBot, a cellular, modular system of electromagnetic bots, controlled via a hive-mind interface, with a certain integral autonomy within the granular structure but overall control over the whole. This is significantly more advanced in concept and execution, however, and capable of significantly greater refinement and granularity of control than the OpenBot toys. OpenBot is a toy, meant for fun and education, yet it contains a certain potential beyond that. What you see here is merely representational. Like OpenBot, the cells use electromagnetics for connection and mobility, and communicate with each other and the host device via Bluetooth.” He shrugs. “Well, it is based on Bluetooth, at least—it is an advanced and proprietary NFC technology. You would likely neither understand nor care about the specifics, I don’t imagine.”
There is a tablet in the box, slotted into the hinged lid. He removes it, wakes it up, and types on it, a series of rapid inputs, one-handed, blindingly fast. With a soft tapping sound, the hexagonal cells come to life, streaming out of the box onto the table in no particular form, just an amorphic blob. Which…just sits there, doing nothing.
Xavier sets his cell phone on the table near the puddle of cells, and then spends a couple of awkwardly silent minutes typing. At first, it just seems like the cells are merely rearranging rather aimlessly. Then, they take on a more regular structure, a flat, thin rectangle somewhat larger than the cell phone. A small stream of the cells moves toward the phone and underneath it, like ants surrounding a crumb. Then, more swiftly than I would have believed possible, the phone moves toward the larger structure. Once the phone is resting on the mass of cells, again, nothing happens immediately. But then…the phone lifts upward. At first, I think the cells are rearranging into a ladder, pushing it up, but then I look closer…somehow, the phone isfloating.
“What?” I ask, kneeling. “How?”
“Fuckin’ magic?” Kane says, joining me on the floor near the coffee table. “How the actual fuck, dude?”
Xavier just laughs. “It is not magic. It is better—science! Look closely at the underside of my phone.”
I do so, and realize there are five of the cells adhered to the underside, one at each corner and one in the center. “Oh! It is magnetics.”
Xavier nods excitedly. “Yes, precisely. The wonder of it is the strength of the connection. Push on the phone. Attempt to dislodge it.”
I gingerly poke the screen—It does not move. Not a millimeter. I nudge it this way, that way, but it may as well be fixed in place. “How much pressure can it withstand?”
Xavier shrugs. “I have not run that level of diagnostics at this juncture. I have done some unscientific testing, of course. It can support a cinder block, at least. Now, the size of the cells is entirely scalable. They can, theoretically, be as large as a vehicle, if not larger. At that size, the electromagnetic power would be…well-nigh unimaginable. I am not certain it is financially feasible at this juncture to attempt such a feat of engineering, but the concept is sound and has truly mind-boggling potential.”
Kane frowns. “Potential for what, though?”
Xavier shrugs. “Well, the possibilities are truly endless. Construction. Giant, unwieldy cranes would be a thing of the past. You could move enormous amounts of weight with far less risk and expense and required operator skill. Transportation is another arena in which my concept here could be revolutionary.” He is waxing eloquent, now, tuned out of us and into the theories and ideas. “There is a corporation called Valkyrie Extraglobal Solutions. They’re doing truly revolutionary work in the extraglobal construction field—meaning, shipyards in space. When you’re not bound by gravity or the spatial limitations of a shipyard on earth, the possibilities of what you can build open up dramatically. They’re still in the early stages of development, but I’ve begun talks with them, showing them these modular bots and pitching what can be done with them, given the correct R-and-D budget. If Valkyrie invests in this project…it could be history-making.” He glances at us, and his face tightens into a frown. “Shit. It seems I have accidentally revealed some rather sensitive information. Only myself and the CEO of Valkyrie, Corinna Roth, know our two companies are in talks for collaboration. If this information was to be divulged prematurely, it could adversely affect stocks all over the world, and I do wish I was joking or exaggerating, so please, keep what I have just told you to yourselves.”
Kane laughs. “Secret is safe with us, my friend.”
Xavier piles all of the cells into the case, merely scooping them up and dumping them in—without any kind of input from him, they automatically rearrange themselves…into a different structure, but still just a pile of pieces.
“You have done something truly remarkable,” I say.
Xavier returns the smaller case to the larger one, closes the larger case, and slides his cell into his back pocket. “I apologize if I have bored you with what my beloved wife refers to as shop talk. I tend to fall into lecture at the slightest provocation.”
Kane just laughs. “Bored? I’ve never seen anything as fuckin’ cool as that shit. Straight out of a fuckin’ movie, man. For real. Thanks for showing us.”
Xavier smiles. “You are too kind.” He glances at his wrist, upon which is a sleek smartwatch the likes of which I have never seen before. “Our reservation is now, and my brother and sister-in-law are already there, so we must depart. I will be eager to converse more with you both over lunch. Come, please.”
Instead of taking an elevator down to the lobby and a car from there—or merely dining at a restaurant within Bellagio, we follow Xavier Badd and Harlow Grace to a helipad, where a sleek black helicopter is waiting. This is no average private helicopter—which I am familiar with, my father being who he is. I have ridden in many private helicopters, and this is…far more. This is to the average luxury private helicopter what Pappa’s six-wheel monstrosity is to the average Mercedes-Benz G-Wagen. The interior is all quilted white leather, a cocoon of comfort and understated luxury. Nothing ostentatious here, it is rather focused on the most extreme comfort possible without the unnecessary trappings of luxury for the sake of merely spending money. There are four seats, facing inward from the front and from the rear, facilitating conversation. When the door closes, the noise of the rotors is gone entirely, eliminating the need for the customary headsets. In fact, it is so silent, it is nearly an anechoic chamber.
“Been in some nice helos in my time,” Kane remarks, “but this one takes the cake by an order of magnitude.”
I nod. “Indeed. My father owns several himself, but I have never seen anything to rival this.”
Xavier grins. “It is one of only three on Earth, a prototype designed and built by Valentine Roth, the father of Corinna Roth, who I mentioned is the CEO of Valkyrie Extraglobal Solutions. Roth Transportation Industries…well, the company went through some changes recently, but regardless, Valentine Roth specializes in hyper-luxury transport. This is one of his latest designs. Not only is the interior soundproofed, the actual mechanical noise volume of the aircraft itself is significantly reduced, using technology that was at one time military secret. How he got his hands on that technology, I do not know, but Mr. Roth took it, reverse engineered it, and perfected it. It is also fully electric, meaning somewhat limited range but with immense speed and power and it is nearly silent, while allowing no emissions and using no fossil fuels. Furthermore, the recharging process uses solar power and recycled battery material. In fact, the entire project is an effort in zero-footprint manufacturing.”
