The Suitcase
The airlines do a good job when it comes to loading your luggage onto the plane and reuniting you with your belongings after your flight. The system is computerized using bar coded tags and scanners that identifies the final destination of every piece of luggage and what flights their owners are on. I've never had a bag lost in the over forty years I've been traveling by air. Sure there was the time my bag never came down the conveyor belt by the time everyone else on my flight had picked up theirs. Turned out I'd gotten to the airport so early to catch my flight that my bag ended up on an earlier flight than I did and the airport crew at the other end simply forgot to get my bags out of the holding area when my flight arrived. My wife once had a bag sent to another airport, but the airline managed to deliver it to our hotel by the end of the day.
But a very small percentage of the time, some bags due get truly lost. Sometimes a passenger will walk off with the wrong bag from the claim area, many pieces of luggage do look alike and that's a mistake that's easy to make. Most of the time when that happens the embarrassed passenger will return the 'stolen' item to the airline and exchange it for the one that was rightfully theirs. Of course if they don't do that the airline might be able to figure out what happened by noticing a bag left behind and will contact its owner to set things right, that is if the luggage in question was correctly tagged.
Of course the airlines are insured for lost luggage and they do end up making reparations to those passengers whose luggage never shows up. And there are the bags that are never claimed (something that makes the security people nervous I'm sure), and the luggage that finally shows up months to years after the insurance claims against their loss have been paid off. It's a dirty little secret that the public doesn't know about, but several times a year across the county these orphaned items get auctioned off to the highest bidders by the insurance riders and the airlines.
To those that attend these auctions it's a bit of a crap shoot. The bags are put up on the block unopened, and are often sold in lots on pallets all wrapped up in clear plastic wrap. You can see how many you're bidding on, and they've been weighed, but otherwise there isn't much to go on in selecting what to bid on or setting a value. You never know what you will end up with once you get the bags open, and you'll probably find at least half are locked with no keys available, (unless you have some low friends in the TSA who have some master keys they will lend you).
My friend Howie had found out about one of these auctions, and he invited me to come along with him to one of them. Howie always had these get rich schemes and was hoping to find some treasures hidden inside of the unclaimed lost bags of those who had trusted them to the friendly skies. I was sorta curious about the whole idea, but I really didn't intend to bid on anything. I rarely gamble, and have almost never succumb to buying lottery tickets. Still, I tagged along with my friend and the two of us looked through the pallets of unclaimed luggage, Howie jotted down a few of the lot numbers on his auction ticket before we entered the room where the bidding would take place.
There was one item that caught my eye. This lot contained a single item, a most unique suitcase. It was a large case made of metal, at least on the outside. It had multiple latches and locks and actually appeared to be military in origin. I suspect it was made to transport some valuable instrumentation or weapons system. The case appeared to have gas tight seals that looked like it could withstand several atmospheres of pressure as if it had been designed to withstand being immersed deep under the ocean, or travel in outer space. It appeared to have only been used once for it had no signs of abuse, having no dents or scratches on its surface. I decided to bid on this item, not because I was curious about what it might contain (though I was), but rather because it would be the perfect travel container for a portable telescope I was building.
Apparently the rest of the crowd considered the case I had my eye on to be a white elephant for there were few bidders opposing me. I'm sure my wife would think that I'd paid too much for the case, but I did manage to get it for a price I felt was reasonable considering what a custom bit of luggage its size would have cost me to have made up. My new Dobsonian would be traveling in style.
Howie managed to win two pallets of assorted luggage. It was a good thing that we had used his SUV to travel to the auction house, as the back of his vehicle was now packed with dented and bashed in luggage. My prize was carefully placed in the area directly behind my seat. A week later Howie had finished tallying the contents of the booty he'd snagged. He had enough women's unmentionables to keep the working girls in a small brothel happy for months. I however was still trying to figure out how to get my prize opened up without damaging it.
My mysterious case was definitely high tech. The locks were of a kind that I'd never seen before, and apparently neither had any local locksmith. The only identification on the case was a very smudged bar coded tag that was still attached to the handle. Other than the code of the airline, JAL, it provided no clue as to its former owner. All I knew for sure was that this case had once been in Japan.
The thing was heavy, certainly it weighted more than the 50 lb limit most airlines place on checked bags before they charge you a king's ransom for the overweight. I'm sure that some of the heft was in the construction of the thing, but I was still curious about what it contained.
A geek friend of mine named Alan Goldblatt who worked in a robotics lab, offered me the use of a high powered laser cutter to surgically cut the locks on my new case open. I figured by then I'd have to install new locks anyway, so I finally resorted to the brute force method of getting it opened. It took the two of use most of a day to slowly cut though the four locked latches as we were being careful not to damage the case as I wanted to reuse it for my purposes.
Alan and I forced the case open, the air tight seals gave way with a clear hissing sound. What we saw inside startled us at first.
Oh my garwd! Alan gasped, There's a body in that suitcase! This thing must have belonged to the mob!
At first it DID look like a body, but it was quite small, perhaps about 4 and a half feet tall. It appeared to be the size of a child neatly folded up to fit inside the case. On closer examination however, it was obviously not the lifeless remains of a human being, but rather something man made that resembled a puppet or a doll. We carefully removed the lifeless form from the case and laid it down on my workbench where Alan and I closely examined it. Our doll, which was what we first thought it to be, was quite limp as we picked it up. While it appeared to be made of metal, it was covered in pliable outer material that resembled human skin both in color and texture. It was almost completely naked, save for tight fitting black briefs topped by a wide metallic green band and a pair of red boots.
He's beautiful! Goldblatt told me. Someone paid a lot of money to build this thing.
I can see that. I replied. But who would want to make such a large doll in the image of an Asian boy?
Alan was still examining and probing the body lying on my work bench. I don't think he's just a doll. He said. There! Look at this!
My geek friend found a latch under the surface of the boy's chest, which he operated, and a panel slowly opened up to reveal its insides. Hidden inside the body of the 'doll' were circuits, tubing, miles of wiring, and a lot of things we could not identify. A few LED indicators inside were softly winking on and off.
This is a robot. Alan finally blurted out, And a very sophisticated one at that. It appears to be inactivated, but some of its circuits are yet still operating in a very low power standby mode.
You know, I said, I can't believe that he was just abandoned. Someone must have been looking for him, probably still is.
Yeah, I'm sure of that. Alan replied, But it must have been part of a top secret project. I'll try searching the web and see if I can turn up any clues.
I'd concentrate my first efforts on Japan, I said, The suitcase had a JAL bar code on it.
Makes sense. Alan agreed, Most of the high tech robot work being done these days is centered in that country.
You know, I told my friend, If we could activate him, I bet he could tell us where he came from.
Maybe, Greenblatt said, If you can understand any Japanese.
I hadn't though of that, I laughed, but then again if this guy is as high tech as you think, he's probably multi-lingual.
True. Alan said. Tell you what, bring your 'doll' over to my lab over at Robotech on Monday and we'll try to power him back up.
We carefully put the boy back into the suitcase and closed it. I used a couple of bungee cords to tie it closed as the latches were now untrustworthy after our cutting the locks open.
Robotech designs and manufactures automated factory tools. They have enough high powered computers to make a geek drool with envy, as well as some AI enabled human interfaces that can easily pass the Turing test. Greenblatt led me into his private laboratory area where we unpacked my suitcase and extracted the small android from it. Alan strapped the boy like robot onto a work bench that looked like something Dr. Frankenstein might have had in the basement of his castle. He opened the panel in the boy's chest and inserted a borescope. The flexible tube of the high tech camera housed both a powerful light source and a 50 megapixel video camera with a macro focusing lens.
This robotic camera will examine every cubic millimeter of the insides of the robot and record it all for playback, Alan said. This will give us a road map of its design, and if we are lucky we'll be able to figure out how to power it back up.
Any luck on the web search? I asked.
Maybe. Alan said. Seems that JAL did hush up the loss of something a few years back. A top secret think tank, similar to the Air Force's Area 51 skunk works, being run by the Japanese government was mentioned in the same report. I had to dig real deep to find anything, and all I know is this thing is hot.
As in potentially dangerous? I asked.
Maybe. Greenblatt said. We've got to be careful.
We both went out for lunch at a local Sushi joint not far from Robotech. Considering what was waiting for us back in the laboratory, were were both in the mood for something Japanese I guess. By the time we got back the robotic camera had finished its probing. Alan quickly scanned though the video, taking notes. He softly grunted a few 'Ah Hah's', and made a number of soft whistles as well.
I've identified some strange stuff inside of him. Alan said.
Such as? I asked.
For starters it appears that it has several power sources. Greenblatt said. Besides a Lithium battery pack there appears to be some sort of cold fusion reactor. I've identified a fuel tank that once contained some isotope of deuterium.
How much power do you think that reactor can produce? I asked.
My best guess would be about 100,000 horse power, Alan answered, And then there is this. He scanned though the data and zoomed in on something.
What is that? I asked.
Looks to me like a magazine containing about 500 rounds of armor piercing high velocity ammo. he answered. Your doll has a pair of machine guns hidden inside of him somewhere.
Ah, there is is! Alan said. He reached carefully inside the robot and inserted a network cable. The other end he attached to the mainframe server computer in his laboratory.
I'm going to attempt a warm start on its AI, Greenblatt said, Maybe there is a diagnostic level I can activate without bringing him fully back up.
Alan started several programs on his server. I've used these daemons to hack into many remote sites, he said sheepishly, I ought to be able to make contact with this guy's monitor program, if its running.
We waited for several minutes as the computer generated many pseudo random sequences of challenges. The monitor screen was displaying scrolling vertical columns of kanji text that reminded me of something out of the matrix. Suddenly the noise disappeared and a prompt character appeared.
We're in. Alan said. He started another program and after a few seconds of rapidly changing graphics what looked like a heads up display appeared. While some of the labels were in Japanese, most of the important information was being shown in English with normal numbers.
Looks like his internal energy levels are rather low. Alan said. Should be enough to wake him, but he will probably be paralyzed. Hopefully his speech functions will operate.
Alan made a few mouse clicks and waited. A low humming noise started as our little boy opened his eyes and looked around.
Watashi wa doko desku ka? he moaned.
I looked puzzled but Alan seemed to either understand the question, or just made a good guess.
You're in America. he said.
What city? the boy asked. It was clear that he understood English.
This facility is in the suburbs of New York City, Alan said. Do you have a name? Where did you come from?
The android turned his head slowly, and apparently with some difficulty. He saw the suitcase that he'd been stuffed into sitting on a chair a few feet from the table he was strapped to.
My energy must be low, I can hardly move, he said. My name is Atom. I was built by the Japanese Ministry of Science, in their secret robotics facility. I was to accompany the head of the organization to meet with scientists in Washington D.C. They had to pack me as luggage because they couldn't risk my being seen in public, even though I can often be mistaken as a human boy instead of a robot.
It looks like the suitcase you were in was lost in transit. I explained. It came into my possession just a week ago, I won it at an auction.
I must have been in that suitcase for quite some time, Atom sighed. He then spotted a calendar on the wall.
Is that the right year and month? he asked.
Hai I said, using one of the few Japanese words I knew.
I've been in that suitcase for a decade now? he said. I can only imagine the problems this might have caused.
What is your power source? Alan asked.
I run on a special isotope of deuterium, Atom said, but I also have an electrical battery pack that you might be able to recharge.
Yeah, I already figured that out. Greenblatt replied. Where do I hook up your charger?
Atom pointed to a connector inside of his chest. You'll need a charger delivering at least 240 volts direct current at a 1000 amps for a quick charge.
I can probably rig up something with a fraction of the current. Alan said, It will just take a little longer to recharge you.
I'm not going anywhere. Atom laughed.
It took my friend about an hour to jury rig a bunch of welding carts together to create a suitable direct current source. He inserted a pair of heavy cables into Atom and turned on his contraption.
How does that feel? he asked.
Good! the android smiled. You can come back in a few hours, I'll be much better by then. For now, I'm going to rest, I feel sleepy from the lack of energy.
Atom closed his eyes, but had a smile on his face.
I hope he remembers some names and contacts. I said. I'm going to have to return him to where he belongs.
Sounds like someone is going to get a free trip to Japan out of this. Greenblatt laughed. Be sure to take your camera with you and get lots of pictures!
I'm on Fanfiction.net as Tetsuwan Penguin. Please check out some of the other stories I've written! 
