by Logan Keys
Fritz lives near the bad corner. That seems right.
I don’t knock on his door, because that’s for friends. I simply kick it in and call for Lilz. My only friend.
Fritz is in the hallway, his eyes wide. “Get away from me, you creepy machine!”
“You hurt her. You hurt my Lilz!” Something cracks on the inside.
Connectors disconnect. Capacitors unpolarize.
The night I stole little Boss, the day I lost my family, brought me here. And Lilz is my new family.
I grab Fritz by the neck. I do it tight, tighter, and don’t let go, not until he turns off.
Afterwards, I search the home and find Lilz. I lift her from her place in the corner and carry her from the bad house, past the bad corner, and we arrive back at the attic.
Her father waits for us.
I hand him Lilz, and he sobs, carrying her to her room.
Gently, I move her hair from her face, and we both gasp at the damage. “Fritz is dead,” I say, without regret, and Lilz father blinks at me, like an owl, and says, “Thank you.”
Lilz wakes long enough to let me feed her soup. She can barely swallow past the painful bruises on her throat, and the swollen side of her face holds no emotion.
But the other, is crying.
“I have to say goodbye, Lilz. I don’t want to shut off, not in that way. I want to remember.”
She sobs and shakes her head holding onto me.
We sit like that, holding hands, until she falls asleep.
“Can you hide me?” I ask her father and he nods.
He’d explained that the police were already aware of a Robot carrying a girl downtown, and they’d find me and wipe my memory, probably take me apart.
“I want to remember,” I’d told him and he’d agreed to take me to his work.
I’d hide inside a shipping container headed somewhere far away.
It didn’t matter to me.
I’d remember Lilz.
That was enough.
I feel the ship move over the rolling waves, and it feels endless, the flowing, and after many days, it becomes still.
Locked inside, my battery needs the power of the sun, and eventually I’m too weak to light my way in the dark. I go into sleep mode, and eventually out of energy, I shut down completely.
Chapter Three
“Dominik, you know I hate hand-me-downs.”
“Vintage, my love. He’s vintage.”
“Old, you mean. And we already have a Bretta.”
“She’s boring, without any quirks.”
“Just how I like my robots.”
“Shhh, he can hear you.”
“How can you tell?”
“Jolene, look how realistic they were, even back then. This tech is top notch! He even has eyebrows, real hair. The shop did a good job repairing him, too. He was rusted completely through. I got him for a steal, really. They don’t make them like this anymore, everything nowadays is plastic. They found him in a shipping yard that went bankrupt, the poor thing was stuck in a container.”
“No kidding.”
“The thing is, he’d been in there nearly fifty years. Can you imagine?”
“Mummy, can I touch him?”
“Not yet, sweetheart. Let daddy get him up and running first.”
“Hi there? Can you hear me…er…Barkley, is it?”
“Hello,” I say and the family backs away from me instinctively. “Where’s Lilz?” I ask.
“I’m sorry, who?” the man answers.
“My last owner?” But they’d said fifty years.
Had it really been so long?
“Aw, how sad,” the woman says.
She’s pretty. Perfect. Then I realize, they must be a family of robots. They’re all too perfect, just like Lilz used to say about me. She’d tell me if I was more banged up, I’d fit in better.
“What should we call you? Is Barkley okay?” the woman asks.
“Barkley five oh.”
“No one ever named you,” the man says.
I don’t answer. I’m stuck, for some reason. Lilz had called me Tinman, but I shake my head, not able to speak of her in the past tense, older, or maybe gone…
The woman frowns and the first wrinkle appears. So…humans.
I almost miss the little boy hiding behind his mother’s skirt.
The woman says, “I’m Jolene, this is Dom, and Little Dom, and Karel.”
“Barkley, how are all of your systems,” Dom asks.
“Good.”
“Excellent. Jolene needs a new bodyguard. Can you fulfill that role? We will update your programs for physical combat, and weapon information.”
“All right.”
The man laughs, fixing his glasses. “Whoever did work on you did an incredible job.”
“Yes. She did. Thank you. Her name was Lilz. She is incredible.”
“Where can we find this old owner of yours? I’d very much like to meet her.”
I eagerly give them the address. Dom writes it down, but he then looks at Jolene who pinches the bridge of her nose before giving me a smile that makes me feel funny.
“What is it?” I ask.
The funny feeling becomes dread.
“That’s close to the ocean, Barkley,” Jolene says. “No one lives there anymore.”
“How come?”
“There’s been fighting between our country and a few others. I’m sure you know about the ongoing war? Yes? Good. Certain types of weapons used in the ocean spread out until it affected the land. People got very sick.”
The woman touches my arm, before snatching her hand away, her cheeks turning crimson. It seems she’s never comforted a robot before. “I’m sure your friend got away.
I block the emotions. I find my first bout of denial.
I copy the smile the woman gave me. “What would my duties entail?” I ask, instead.
The Merkels have a strict routine. Everyone is out the door by seven am, with their special masks for emergencies. Mrs. Merkel has a driver, and a cook, and a nanny, but I’m the only one allowed inside her office. She’s a politician. Jolene has to give that weird smile a lot. It’s all very practiced, and I’m learning so much from my new owner.
I keep mine on whenever we are in front of reporters.
I can also see why Jolene needs a bodyguard. People are always trying to get close to her. Most of the time, to scream in her face, and now they get to do it into mine, instead. Almost always, they are demanding that she change her stance on the Radiation Act of the New Americas.
But Jolene is quite stubborn.
Everyone carries masks around. The world is quite changed.
On one day, I grow brave enough to try and look for Lilz.
But the information comes up empty every time.
It’s like she never existed.
I keep on smiling, just like Jolene does.
She’s a smart lady. She almost never has emotions.
If Lilz was able to download emotions into me, maybe someone uploaded them back out of Jolene.
Jolene says, “That’s crazy, Barkley, I’m not a psychopath. I just keep them, you know, bottled up. Inside.”
Like her, I try and keep mine on the inside now, too.
But at times, late in the night, after a few glasses of wine, she talks to me.
Like tonight, after a man tried to attack her, she’s drinking and telling me things she’s never said before.
The man had shot a gun at Jolene, hitting me in the arm, instead. And Dominik had had to spend all night repairing me.
I stayed with her after Dominik went to bed. Jolene drank several extra glasses while she sat in the dark, a tremor running through her hands. It made the red drink slosh in her glass.
She’d p
ut the kids to bed Herself, reading them stories, and even pulled her hair down from its bun.
Jolene stared at a piece of carpet, and I did the same.
“Barkley” she says, her words slightly slurred. “Thank you for saving me today.”
“No problem.”
She snorts. Covers her mouth, and then laughs. “You know. I almost believe you. Almost. But you’re a liar. You lie as well as any human I know. Too bad you can’t drink. I’d liquor you up and find out the truth. Just like…me I guess.”
“Why do humans lie?”
“Why do you lie?”
“I’m not.”
“Oh, Barkley. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.” Jolene puts her glass down, before she tucks her feet and leans her chin on her palm. “You really love her, don’t you?”
I stay focused on the patch of carpet.
Sometimes, when everyone is asleep. The kids are snoring softly, and Jolene is too, finally, in her office chair, more loudly, and Dom is asleep in his room after having snuck and looked at porn, and the house is quiet, except for the sounds of peaceful dreaming, I’ll walk through the rooms, imaging another existence.
I’m a father of little Boss. He’s big enough to walk now, and he’s running to me. I catch him and swing him up high like I’ve seen Dom do. Lilz is there, she’s little Boss’ mom, and I’m dad, and we are a happy family who sits by the fire. There aren’t any robots. Just humans. We are just…us.
“Ah. I see,” Jolene says, her dark, keen eyes, seeming to read my thoughts. “Do you know that as hard as it is to talk about her, it’s the same for me, too? Only, it’s when I try and be a mom.” She sighs, slumping down, heavy lidded. “This may sound crazy, but whenever I read them stories or bake them cookies, I feel so much pain. I just want to end it all, right then, on a good note. You might look at me and think what does she know about being a mother? She has nannies, and they do everything, but I wasn’t always like this, Barkley. I breastfed for God’s sake.” She checks her glass to make sure there isn’t a drop left. “I still hear babies cry. Isn’t that funny? At night, I’ll turn my music way down and listen for a moment, thinking I hear them cry. But they aren’t babies anymore. I feel a slight tingle when it happens, too, just here.”
She touches her chest.
Jolene starts to cry. She’s an ugly crier.
“What sort of world have Dom and I brought them into, you know? This place isn’t fit for babies. Or babies grown into kids, who, like you and I, will eventually lie all day to avoid that pain.”
I don’t feel like Jolene needs an answer.
But I do.
I need answers.
But she says, “Thank you, Barkley. For being a part of our family. For being here…for saving me today.”
And then I listen to them all snore through the night, until morning.
The morning comes with more new.
The nanny’s out. After yesterday’s shooting, she’s quit.
“I want them home, Dom.”
Jolene’s blurry eyed, drinking coffee by the pot.
Dom leans on the counter, fixing his glasses. He’s not one to argue with a hungover Jolene. But he tries. “They should be in school.”
“Don’t be an ass. This isn’t about how things look to the public. This is about our children. They stay home. With Barkley.”
Dom looks as if he’s biting back a nasty retort. Mostly after she mentioned this being about the children. “Why?”
“I trust him, that’s why.”
“Do you even hear yourself, Jolene?”
She doesn’t argue. She grabs her coat and leaves.
“I should go with her,” I say.
But I look down at the little owl-eyes peeking up at me and realize, that Jolene’s right. If people want to hurt their mom, they might be crazy enough to hurt her children.
I feel protective over them.
I lean down into a crouch. “How would you two like to bake some cookies?”
“Yay!” they yell and Dom gives me an appreciative look.
“What about the missus?” I ask when the children have gone to ready themselves for baking.
“Don’t worry, Barkley,” Dom says. “I’ll get her a replacement immediately.”
We do bake cookies that first day. And many others. I read them stories every night. Jolene never tries to come and tuck them in anymore.
Since I’ve no training in being a nanny, I’ve downloaded tutoring applications to teach them both their academics.
We play games, mostly inside, and the children over time grow restless of staying home.
But when I bring up a possible field trip, Jolene shuts me down.
“Won’t happen. Don’t ask again.” She looks ages older, I realize.
Her hair has more grey in it, and her wrinkles are visible even without her frowning. Jolene’s once lovely manicured nails are bit to the quick
“Is everything all right, Missus?”
She looks at me and utters one word. “No.” Before shutting the office door.
The day it happens isn’t particularly special. Nothing warns us of the change.
Jolene and Dom rush home from work, early, and they are quiet about it all, but they pack the children’s things and theirs.
With a whisper, Jolene stops me in the kitchen from making dinner. “We have to leave. There is a safe place for us. But. They won’t take you. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”
She won’t look me in the face.
“Can I stay awake?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Jolene breaks down, bent over the sink, tears pouring down her nose.
“It’s all over,” she whispers.
“What is?”
“Everything.”
She wipes her face and stands up straight.
“Jolene.” Dom looks at me, he’s been crying, too.
He has both kids by the hand.
“Can I say goodbye?” I ask.
Jolene shakes her head, turning away from the children to say, “I don’t want to scare them.”
She says something about everyone using the bathroom one last time, it would be a long trip.
I will turn myself off before they finish.
My gift to them.
The closer I get to humanity, the more I see them for what they are. Scared. Simple. Lazy. Genius. Humans. Messy, nutty, stronger than anything—screwed up, cutting and running, life bringing, humans. Courageous, kind, selfless, magical, passionate, organic, weird, and uncomfortably comfortable, humans…loving...and about to be extinct, humans.
Everything I hate, and everything I’m longing to be…human.
Chapter Four
“Well now, take it slow there, Robo. You’ve been asleep a long while, long-long while.”
He chuckles.
“You ok in there?”
I nod. “I think so.”
He laughs until he wheezes. “He thinks so? A robo who thinks? It’s been a long time, long time since ‘ole Jasper seen one of them thinkers. Not a lot of room for thoughts these days, anyway.”
Jasper’s wearing animal skins. His dark skin underneath is dotted with sweat. The temperature reads much higher than before.
“Where am I?”
He leans forward and taps a wooden staff on my head. “They must have spent a long time making you.”
One word comes to mind when I take in my surroundings. Desolate.
“What happened?” Jasper says, leaning on the Beachwood. “Man. Woman. The whole place was chock full of them until it couldn’t take it no more.”
“It? The earth, you mean?”
“Sure. Sure.”
I try and stand, but I’m severely damaged.
“Don’t do too much, Robo. I’m n
o fixer, see? Found you under a refrigerator that looked made of pure titanium, can you imagine? Dragged you outside and once you got under the sun, you started a beepin’ and a whirrin’.”
He uses the staff to move some trash around.
“Careful,” he says, when I try to rise.
One leg works quite well, the other’s too damaged.
“Can you fix yourself?”
“If I have certain tools, Jasper.”
“Hmmm, okay, all right, tell me what you need, Robo.”
It takes a lot of explaining, but Jasper finds everything before nightfall, and we get my leg working.
With those fixed, I search myself to find other parts for one of my arms that’s missing.
My vision is blurring and we can’t find any parts around that I can use to repair my eyes. Jasper says he knows of a place called robot graveyard. After admitting he’s the only one that calls it that, he shows me where it is.
The carnage. There must be millions.
“Most of the new ones weren’t like you, Robo,” Jasper says. “No place to charge.” Then he says, “Come on. We rummage our lives away.” After I’ve fixed my eyes. “You can help me.”
And I do help Jasper. In fact, I find that the rummager needs me far more than I do him. He’s got a terrible cough, and at night, he wheezes and tells me stories, stopping to cough up red into a handkerchief.
He sleeps fitfully.
I keep watch for Jasper. Strange looking animals come around during the night, some are unafraid of the fire, some are not.
After a time, Jasper tells me how he survived. Those who’d gone underground hadn’t.
Whatever weapon was used, whatever the Merkels were running from, had affected the lower layers of soil more than the top. It thinned with the fresh air. But below, it had concentrated, and death was immediate.
Seeing how this affected me, he promised that no one had suffered. And also assured me that no one had made it out of the bunkers.
This didn’t mean the topsoil was safe.
“They poisoned us up here too, pretty good.”
“So, few are left,” I say.
“Food supply. Bad soil. Nothing will grow. What the sickness didn’t kill off, hunger did. What hunger didn’t kill off, sadness did.”
