“Yes, it is interesting. But it is not the answer to my question.” Perhaps he didn’t hear me over the sound of Proto hitting the ground, so I ask it again. “What is the purpose of this experiment?”

“They’re testing his balance and mobility. But mostly they’re testing his ability to complete tasks while faced with distractions.”

I do not know what to think about Proto’s balance and mobility, but as he once again reaches the top of the ladder, I conclude that he is very capable of performing despite distractions.

“How many times must Proto be struck before you have learned enough?” I ask this question not of Nathan, but of the man with the hockey stick.

He checks a piece of paper on a clipboard. “We’re scheduled for seventeen more applications of stimulus.”

“Does ‘application of stimulus’ mean hitting?”

“In this case, yes,” Nathan says. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt him.”

Proto continues to climb. Thwack. And Proto continues to fall.

After a while, my sensors start to malfunction. My vision gets strangely sharp. I can see the tiniest of scratches in the surface of Proto’s casing. With every blow of the hockey stick, there are more cracks, like fine splinters. And the noise of the impacts is too loud. Pain sensors in my head flash, as if I’m the one being hit. The feelings grow bigger, sharper. It is like being overwhelmed by cheese.

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack.

I am cheesing.

Thwack.

It feels like my skull is cracking.

Thwack.

And something comes out of my head. It is like light, only I cannot see it. Nathan and the man with the hockey stick and the other workers in the room don’t behave as though anything unusual is happening. Perhaps they don’t see it either.

Thwack.

“Proto, climb the ladder,” says the man with the hockey stick.

No.

Proto. Stop.

Stop climbing.

I do not say these words out loud. I say them only in my cheesing, cracking head.

Sprawled on the floor, Proto rights himself. He whirrs over to the ladder and puts his two front feet on the first rung. His green light blinks, and he raises a leg to continue climbing. But then he pauses. He lowers his front feet to the floor.

The pressure in my head fades.

“Proto, climb the ladder,” the man with the stick says again.

Proto sits there, his rear antennae sagging.

The man frowns. He puts down his stick and comes over to examine Proto. “He seems to be functioning.”

“Then why won’t he run the program?” asks one of the other uniMIND workers.

Everyone looks at Proto.

Everyone but Nathan.

Nathan is looking at me.

“Cog, did you do that? Did you cause Proto to disobey his command?”

I blink, processing.

“I don’t know,” I say. Which is the truth.

Nathan’s smile is tiny as he taps things into his notepad.