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It’s lunch hour on a weekday and a small restaurant in central Beijing is packed to the gills. Harried-looking waiters run from table to table to cope with the stream of orders， and the manager’s fingers fly like lightning over the calculator as she tallies up bills.
In sharp contrast to the hectic activity， the little kitchen， visible through the long narrow glass window that partitions it from the dining hall， is a calm oasis. A lean but efficient army composed of three cooks is dishing out the orders， working in perfect coordination and harmony. One is setting out the food， another is briskly stirring a bubbling mass in a large cauldron， and the third is slicing a large ball of dough with clockwork precision， making a shower of uniformly sized noodles fall into the basket waiting at its foot.
But wait a minute. The slicer doesn’t appear to have any feet！ The busy hands are attached to a torso that abruptly ends on the table on which he has been placed. The head， which never looks up， even when people are taking his photograph by the dozen， appears as if it’s permanently encased in a biker’s helmet. You may think that there is something strange indeed about this chef’s assistant. You are right. Meet Ultraman， the robo-cook.
For those who grew up on books and movies about intergalactic wars and robotic domination， China is one of the best places to see some of those wild tales come to fruition. The International Federation of Robotics has predicted that by next year China will have the largest number of robots working in its manufacturing sector in the world. It already has the largest market in the global robot trade， worth $9.5 billion， and wherever you cast your eyes， there are the steely little men-—or women—hard at work. Robots are farming fields in the countryside， running production lines， hoovering apartments and helping out in the kitchen. You can buy them from impressive showrooms， where there are demonstrations available， or simply purchase them at online retail sites such as Taobao.
At Beijing’s Jinlaoxi restaurant， wherein we have strolled in for lunch， there’s a robot diligently making noodles for daoxiaomian， Shanxi specialty noodles， which will be served to us in egg and tomato soup. Li Hei， the 34-year-old chef who has been with the restaurant for six years， said that the robot was bought in 2013 to assist him. It has been christened Ultraman after a robot in a Japanese TV series. “He’s a big help，” Li said indulgently. “Before， I had to do the slicing myself. Now with him taking care of that business， I can cook faster. Besides， his noodles are uniform， with the same length and breadth. I feel the food tastes a tad better.” Dong Xiumei， the manager， said that Ultraman is a hit with diners， who transfixedly watch him at work. “They love to take his photo，” she added.
The restaurant has two branches in Beijing and others in different cities. There are robots at work in both of the capital’s diners. However， for the seasoned Beijinger， a robo-cook is nothing new. Wang Hongyuan， a young editor at the China Machine Press who has come to have lunch with his two pals， pointed out that robotic staff are old hat. “This is Beijing， not a village，”Wang said derisively.
I remember then reading somewhere that a hotel in Shenzhen， south China’s Guangdong Province—the Pengheng Space Capsule Hotel—had a bevy of robot staff. I also remem- ber the excitement in our office last year when Chinese Internet service provider Tencent created a robot， Dreamwriter， who wrote an entire article about the consumer price index. Everyone said that it was far more lucid than analyses made by economists.
I am all agog at the thought of a brave new world with such wonderful helpmates. Where else can I find robots at work？ What else can they do in China？
My friend and colleague Zheng Yang has the answer. “Some time ago， there was a discussion on Chinese social media and someone had posted a forlorn request： I want a boyfriend，”Zheng said. “And in no time at all， someone had sent an answer. ‘Have this one，’ it said， adding a picture. It was the photo of a robot.”
In sharp contrast to the hectic activity， the little kitchen， visible through the long narrow glass window that partitions it from the dining hall， is a calm oasis. A lean but efficient army composed of three cooks is dishing out the orders， working in perfect coordination and harmony. One is setting out the food， another is briskly stirring a bubbling mass in a large cauldron， and the third is slicing a large ball of dough with clockwork precision， making a shower of uniformly sized noodles fall into the basket waiting at its foot.
But wait a minute. The slicer doesn’t appear to have any feet！ The busy hands are attached to a torso that abruptly ends on the table on which he has been placed. The head， which never looks up， even when people are taking his photograph by the dozen， appears as if it’s permanently encased in a biker’s helmet. You may think that there is something strange indeed about this chef’s assistant. You are right. Meet Ultraman， the robo-cook.
For those who grew up on books and movies about intergalactic wars and robotic domination， China is one of the best places to see some of those wild tales come to fruition. The International Federation of Robotics has predicted that by next year China will have the largest number of robots working in its manufacturing sector in the world. It already has the largest market in the global robot trade， worth $9.5 billion， and wherever you cast your eyes， there are the steely little men-—or women—hard at work. Robots are farming fields in the countryside， running production lines， hoovering apartments and helping out in the kitchen. You can buy them from impressive showrooms， where there are demonstrations available， or simply purchase them at online retail sites such as Taobao.
At Beijing’s Jinlaoxi restaurant， wherein we have strolled in for lunch， there’s a robot diligently making noodles for daoxiaomian， Shanxi specialty noodles， which will be served to us in egg and tomato soup. Li Hei， the 34-year-old chef who has been with the restaurant for six years， said that the robot was bought in 2013 to assist him. It has been christened Ultraman after a robot in a Japanese TV series. “He’s a big help，” Li said indulgently. “Before， I had to do the slicing myself. Now with him taking care of that business， I can cook faster. Besides， his noodles are uniform， with the same length and breadth. I feel the food tastes a tad better.” Dong Xiumei， the manager， said that Ultraman is a hit with diners， who transfixedly watch him at work. “They love to take his photo，” she added.
The restaurant has two branches in Beijing and others in different cities. There are robots at work in both of the capital’s diners. However， for the seasoned Beijinger， a robo-cook is nothing new. Wang Hongyuan， a young editor at the China Machine Press who has come to have lunch with his two pals， pointed out that robotic staff are old hat. “This is Beijing， not a village，”Wang said derisively.
I remember then reading somewhere that a hotel in Shenzhen， south China’s Guangdong Province—the Pengheng Space Capsule Hotel—had a bevy of robot staff. I also remem- ber the excitement in our office last year when Chinese Internet service provider Tencent created a robot， Dreamwriter， who wrote an entire article about the consumer price index. Everyone said that it was far more lucid than analyses made by economists.
I am all agog at the thought of a brave new world with such wonderful helpmates. Where else can I find robots at work？ What else can they do in China？
My friend and colleague Zheng Yang has the answer. “Some time ago， there was a discussion on Chinese social media and someone had posted a forlorn request： I want a boyfriend，”Zheng said. “And in no time at all， someone had sent an answer. ‘Have this one，’ it said， adding a picture. It was the photo of a robot.”