41. Helicopter Frame That Was Once a Slave in Ancient Egypt
The newborn cry was unlike an ordinary baby's wail; it was a destructive explosion, like a drill violently boring into the ground.
From directly above us as we desperately struggled to stay near the surface, something fell and struck our heads.
It was a hard object.
With visual sensors unusable, I had no choice but to grope with my hands and grasp the object that hit my head.
It felt like a plate, but not large.
It had a width grippable like a handrail, and I could hold it firmly with one hand. Still connected to Jinri with my other hand, I moved closer to the object and examined it in detail.
Since falling into the milk pool, it showed no signs of moving or attacking.
It might be something that couldn't move yet.
Feeling its shape by touch was like imagining an elephant's full form while blindfolded. Even pretending to be a high-performance humanoid robot, I anew realized how heavily I depended on visual sensors, dragging along some primitive humanity.
As imitations of humans, in the face of such an incomprehensible crisis, we could only thrash about desperately.
"Jinri."
The milk pool had calmed a bit, so I resumed palm writing.
"Any idea what this is that just attacked us?"
"No clue at all."
"Then shall we figure out what it is together from now?"
"Yeah!"
Jinri's fingertips danced joyfully on my palm.
In this crisis where eyes and mind could go completely white, she displayed an innocence like a child excited for a new adventure, easing my tension. Touching the smile her fingertips drew, I realized that perhaps in this era, a child's purity was more reliable than an adult's composure.
Thus, to grasp the full picture of this enigmatic object, we cautiously swam around it, touching it, sending electric currents to check reactions, and analyzing its shape with 3D scans.
After spending a long 10 seconds, we finally identified it.
"This is…" I said. "A vehicle frame, right?"
"Yeah," Jinri agreed. "Since this is an aircraft factory, it's probably an airplane or something's frame. Helicopter has high probability."
We didn't need to examine the entire frame; touching about 30% gave us clues to infer.
"This is a helicopter."
When I said that, Jinri's fingers moved on my palm as if nodding.
"I think you're right."
In that instant, as if declaring "Exactly!", the faint metallic newborn cry that had been echoing suddenly grew louder.
It started as a violent sound like a drill piercing the ground but gradually shifted to a futuristic synthesizer tone, increasing in volume.
What had been a distant sound like from another galaxy was now clearly close inside the milk pool, distinctly audible. It stimulated my nearly paralyzed auditory sensors, fully restoring ear function.
And then, a voice came clearly.
"Hot…"
Though the voice of a baby not even 10 seconds old, the pronunciation was surprisingly clear, in a tone complaining about the heat like an ancient Egyptian slave working under harsh sunlight at a midsummer construction site.
This helicopter frame carried a desperate ring that made one wonder if it truly had been a slave in ancient Egypt in a past life.
"Too hot… Get me out of here soon…"
The helicopter frame, melting in the milk pool with a slick, raw presence as if fermenting into butter, appealed directly to us.
Thanks to its voice, Jinri and I no longer needed palm conversation and could speak aloud.
"How can we get you out of here?"
I asked the helicopter frame.
But since we were submerged in the milk pool, milk inevitably flowed in whenever we opened our mouths.
"Delicious!"
Jinri opened her mouth after me and evaluated the pool's milk taste.
I shared the sentiment but judged there was no leisure to enjoy the milk flavor now and continued to the helicopter frame.
"Hey, how can we…"
"I already answered when you asked earlier, no need to ask twice."
The baby voice firmly cut off my question.
The helicopter frame explained.
"First, to escape this milk pool, my body needs to be painted with this milk. Once painting is complete, the factory arms will lift me from this overly hot pool. Then it moves to the next process. It goes through conveyor belts, completing in stages via mass production."
"I see."
I listened impressed.
"But how do you know all that? You just been born, should know nothing. Speaking at all is weird to begin with."
"You know,"
the helicopter frame answered.
"For example, a newborn calf, right? Even right after emerging from the mother's belly, it stands immediately without anyone teaching. Same thing. The moment my metal lump formed as a helicopter frame, basic instincts for existence kick in. So I know. No, I end up knowing. Actually, this is super unfree. No tasting new excitement like how one's existence gains uniqueness through processes—everything framed from the start, all known. Like knowing your fate or life's ending from the beginning, tasteless with no thrill. Get it?"
"Eloquent for a newborn."
When I said that, the helicopter frame replied self-mockingly.
"This eloquence is programmed fate from the start too."
"So?" Jinri brought it back. "How do we paint? Isn't soaking in the pool enough?"
"If it were that easy, you'd already be painted with this milk. But your skin and clothes still keep their original colors, right?"
"Then how?" Jinri asked.
"That's the thing; apparently for me, I need humanoid robot hands."
"Why? That your fate too?" I asked.
"Seems so," the helicopter frame affirmed. "This pool has a bit of an error; it's a problematic production line. It was closed for maintenance, no frames supposed to enter. But you intruders caused a malfunction in the broken line's arm, mistaking you for frames or restarting work, and I got thrown in too. Managers noticed the malfunction quickly and stopped the line, so no more victims."
"Then what do we do?" I asked. "Can't stay soaking forever."
The helicopter frame made a groaning sound before answering.
"Since automation stopped on this line, only one way."
"What?" Jinri and I asked simultaneously, and the helicopter frame said somewhat enjoyably.
"Manual labor."