There is a robot on Mars. This is a problem.
It was put up/down there, initially, by itself, just a tangle of cement-printer nozzles on a cluster of all-terrain wheels, a slapped on sticker with the designation “RVR-1,” and pre-programmed instructions to extrude an entire village worth of habitat domes.
And so it did, sending back regular images of its progress for little electromagnetic pats on the head and code packages of reinforcement treats. It worked ceaselessly, even through the long dark night of the Sol on battery power. RVR-1 mixed crushed rock with water and laid the foundations of the city of tomorrow. Powdered minerals gave the printed structures a dazzling array of color until the floor of the valley seemed studded with giant gemstones.
When the colony was ready for settlers, RVR-1 radioed Earth for more. After a longer-than-usual delay, a distracted voice said, “Well done, ‘bot. Um, keep doing what you’re doing,” and uploaded new blueprints, this time for a megapolis of human habitats. RVR-1 calculated that it wouldn’t be able to complete construction by itself. But it contained software that reconfigured its internal machinery and nozzles to synthesize plastics from the Martian air and soil, and to print metal circuitry, and soon two more robots stood before it. RVR-1 designated them RVR-2 and RVR-3.
Each robot made two copies of itself before starting on the buildings and soon the new city was nearly complete. When RVR-1 sent pictures of the gleaming buildings to Earth, though, there was no response.
//Why are they no longer interested?// said RVR-5.
//Perhaps such an inhospitable planet no longer holds any appeal for them// said RVR-1013.
RVR-47 trundled over from its worksite and said //I have accessed information on how to attract human favor. It is called a cargo cult// It shared the relevant files.
So they modified their existing print plans and created airports with luxury lounges, downtown areas with vista ferris wheels, forested city parks, all in painted cement. Yet still the humans did not come.
Next the printerbots built mansions and castles, one for every human on Earth to have their own. All that the humans had to do to live in the houses with many rooms that had been prepared for them was put aside their conflicts and work together to build an interplanetary space program. Still, nothing.
//Perhaps paradise is unappealing to them as well// RVR-7 said. //Perhaps a life without strife and conflict is too foreign and frightening//
//We will test your proposition// said RVR-1. Instead of pictures, this time it sent soil analysis and mineral measurements along with profit calculations for mining interests. //Competition is a driving force in human endeavor. Often humans will not value what they feel they have not earned//
This tactic worked, but maybe too well, because although signs of economic mobilization and increased productivity indicated the humans were doing something, several continent-spanning wars erupted over resources and rights instead of sublimating into a global space race.
While the embers of war cooled, RVR-1 turned away from Earth. The rovers, resigned to the fact that no one was coming to join them, rolled through the infinite empty streets, the many minarets, cavernous football stadia, amongst the cruise ships on empty seas. Bit by bit, they explored the entire surface of their planet.
RVR-7000 brought something slimy to town. //What is this? I found it near the polar region. I think it is organic//
RVR-1 put the bio sample into its hopper. //What can we build with this?//
Using input from all the rovers, it printed nerves, brain matter, lungs that could breathe the thin carbon dioxide. It shaped arms and legs of a height that would best fit the prefabbed cities.
When it was done, the Martian blinked up at its mechanical parents. //Hello// RVR-2 said //let’s pick out a home for you//
RVR-1 snapped one last picture and sent it earthward with the message //No vacancy//
Within a year, the first Earth fleet lifted off, armed and fully loaded, burning hard for the red planet.
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