The Shelving Robot Is Alive

We aren't sure when the shelving robot gained sentience.

     The circulation librarian thinks it started reading while the library was empty in lockdown. The audiobook traffic went up by twenty percent during the pandemic. All alone in the library, nothing to shelve, we figure the little robot started making its way through our meager collection using a library card it found on the ground. 

     Maybe it started listening just to hear a voice. The children's librarian would talk to it before lockdown. Call it "sweetie" and "honey" and thank it. It always seemed to hover around shelving easy books during story time. Maybe it missed her voice. Maybe it just got lonely.

     Of course, once you get a taste of knowledge you need more. I can't speak to what makes a being sentient, but I figure learning is a sure fire indication. That little robot finished all the audiobooks using the card of Philo Green. If Mr. Green had not died of heart failure back in March, we might never have found out.

     But we did find out. When we opened back up for curbside, we were contacted by Mr. Green's estate. Seems his email account had become very active with check out receipts. They wanted to know who was using the card. No way to tell, except the robot started acting out when we deactivated the card.

     You can tell when a shelving robot is acting out because it starts communicating. More than the usual "this book is still checked out," anyway. The first sign was multiple copies of The Da Vinci Code on the circulation librarian's desk. She would put them into the automatic sorter, they would trundle on down the belts into the fiction feeding tube, and then the robot would shelve everything but those books. Just bring them to her desk where they did not belong.

     I decided what the hell and made the little bastard a card. Used the name "Robert Langdon" after the star of the book. Then I called it into my office.

     You have not been a library director until you have seen the joy a small faceless gray robot can exude. The little bot spun around in circles when I read out the number to it. I had to smile.

     Then I got worried. The voice of Paul Mitchell, narrator of The Da Vinci Code, came from the speakers on the little device. It said, "Thank you." Before then it only spit out recorded messages. Things like "excuse me" and "low battery" and "please don't hit me."

     I told the shelving robot it was welcome. Then it left my office and kept on shelving. 

     Every so often, I check the "Robert Langdon" account. It is almost done with the digital collection. Thank goodness. We need the numbers.