Having finished her first play-through of Fallout 4, the roommate has been replaying Fallout New Vegas. She didn’t get all of the New Vegas DLC finished before Fallout 4 came out for whatever reasons, so now she’s working her way through the Lonesome Road content.
That’s all well and good, but since she’s traveling with ED-E the eyebot, I’m stuck with this song in my head while she’s blowing the heads off ghouls.
It makes for a strange soundtrack to a post-apocalyptic zombie shooter. No stranger than the actual Fallout soundtracks, mind you. It fits very well with the actual soundtrack. It doesn’t fit so well with my remaining a sane and happy knitter, however.
ED-E reminds me of an assignment we got in sixth grade: a what if debate where the topic was “Should robots have rights?” On one side of the table sat all the people who couldn’t imagine a world where a machine might have feelings and independent action. I sat on the other.
“This is stupid. Machines don’t need rights. They’re machines. D’uh.”
“But what if it could think for itself? What if you couldn’t tell it from a human just by looking at it? If thinking and acting independently are what make someone human, why wouldn’t it make a machine human?” I thought of Westworld and sad cowboy robot Yul Brynner. “What if someone fell in love with a robot and wanted to marry them? If you can’t tell them from a human, why wouldn’t that happen?”
I imagined getting to leave the table with this machine I’d just though up. He would have a name to call him, like James, or Michael, or Edward. Eddie, if we were friends. Yes. In my mind, Eddie the robot and I would absolutely be friends.
We would live on the moon or Mars and help terraform the environment for the settlers who would come afterward. Eddie would be so much better company than the kids in Mrs. Bryant’s class, because he would treat everyone kindly. He would never call anyone weird, or strange, or a freak because they didn’t think the same thoughts as everyone else. We would build robot children and have a nice little family on Mars or whatever space colony world we lived on and when our work was done and the colonists were coming, we’d pack up and move to the next space job.
I was a weird child. Now I’m a weird adult.
I can handle that I’m a weird adult. I can’t handle that I’m a weird adult with an earworm stuck in my head and it’s stuck tight. I think I’m going to have to pull out the big guns to get rid of this one since playing it on repeat for any hour didn’t work: play something worse. Now it’s just a matter of deciding whether I want Bad Romance or Istanbul (Not Constantinople) stuck in my head for the next three days.