Love of Writing discussion
Monthly Short Story Contest
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May Robots 2019 Challenge
interesting concept. I've never written from a robot's perspective before. a challenge indeed.
Hope to have my story ready to post in a couple of day.
I thought this article interesting in light of the May theme.
https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articl...
https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articl...
Mod
LIFE WITH SONLEE, MY ROBO-SON (Part I of a robot series)(775 words)
© Mirta Oliva
“I’m almost done, Sonlee,” I said aloud as I worked on my inanimate creation. “Two years ago, I was reading one book after another and searching the web on how to build a son… Oh dear, that doesn’t sound right! I guess I should have said ‘to build a robot’…
“But you turned out so human, so full of zest. You even treat me as your mom because I told you so. Or am I not? And you are not repetitious; it is as though you can think and be creative with words. Once I close your battery door, I’ll turn you on and we’ll have a conversation; our first mother to son talks.”
That was easy, a one-way chat with my smart-alec robot. So, I closed the battery compartment and hesitated for one minute. Was I ready for this important event? Deep in my heart, I wanted to see how we would interact formally. Up until now, I was teaching my robo-son what I believe would be the most extensive vocabulary for a six-foot robot. I had been home-schooling my creation from grammar to math plus world history and geography. Well, everything a child or youngster would have learned in school and more.
“Good morning, Sonlee… Are you awake?”
“Yes, mother Jane, I am ready to work," replied my son with open eyes and ready to move. "What shall we do now?”
What a voice, I thought. Impressive and manly. In two years I have made this magnificent creature out of man-made materials and I am now ready to introduce him to the world.
“Let’s go to my office, son, and we’ll start your first official school day. You are beginning ninth grade, though I know you could handle business schooling now.”
“Why, then, don’t you start me off with computer lessons?”
Since I know robots are patient, I will take a minute or two to think of the proper answer. Sonlee is artificially-smart, and he knows what he wants. I have debated for a while if I should get him into the computer world. Somehow, I see the dangers of robbies knowing too much but if he doesn’t live or acts at par with the machines man invented to enslave himself, my robo-son will never be able to advance in his world or act as a human clone with elevated powers. How elevated? I will continue working on that.
“You see, Sonlee, as much as I want you to know about everything, I think you are still too young—in robot-life days—to learn about computers. For today, let’s work on some algebra, it’ll do you good. In the afternoon, I’ll take you out for a walk.”
“Fine, mom, but if you take me out will I need a license to be in public or private places among humans?”
“I don’t think so, Sonlee but, we may have to ask for permission to enter restaurants even if I will be the only one eating.”
“I get it. Now, explain to me one more time why should I learn algebra?”
“For one thing, son, it will help you develop your artificial intelligence.”
“I see… And where does artificial intelligence come from?”
My, oh, my! And this is only the beginning of humanizing a robot, I thought. So, I must answer this and other difficult questions I will be getting from my robo-son.
”You will understand more about it, Sonlee, as we have more study sessions. As you grew into the handsome guy you are, I made sure you would have a level of intelligence similar to humans. What for? To solve problems; to talk at will; to provide answers to mathematical or other questions, and so on.
"With the studies being performed on the subject, the day will come in which some robots’ intelligence, though artificial, may surpass humans.’ One of the reasons could be that while our brain powers can be affected by things happening in our lives, your learned intelligence will operate without mind impulses or heart mandates—both well known to alter human reasoning. And the ability to reason by yourselves is being studied by man, along with others to create super robots.”
“Gee, mom, your lives are so complicated but at least you have all the powers within you to think at liberty and to reason and use your intelligence to its maximum potential. In turn, I am limited to what has been stored in my artificial brain. Am I a fake, mom?”
Here we go again… “No, dear, you are a fine robot who knows more than you ‘think.’ Pardon the pun.”
“What did you mean, mother Jane”?
“Oh, look at the time! We have finished today’s lesson, dear Sonlee. I’ll have you rest until we go out for a walk later in the afternoon. Talk to you then, son.”
(Sigh)
BROWN EYES
by terry turner 739 words
While following the humanoid Robot down the blue and yellow striped concrete hallway, I mull the question; ‘Do Robots need a license to do the work that people should be doing?’
Though he looks as human as I do with the Classic Pompadour haircut, the perfect olive colored skin, his lucid speech and swimmer’s build, and though he could pass for my brother, his blue eyes lack a certain sense of emotion which, I think, would be needed to work in a facility like this.
There is a movement to grant citizenship to humanoid Robots which is causing many people to be outraged. Some people are upset because they believe Robots will have more rights and take high paying jobs.
As we walk down the dimly lighted hallway, I sense every corner of this facility magnifies loneliness and emptiness which, in my opinion, could only be remedied with human employees as Robots lack that airy emotional quality that most people possess.
We soon come to the confinement area and walk past several cubicles.
Those inside are watching us with great interest.
Some silently; others not so silent.
But the noisemakers hush when the Robot looks in their direction.
I can only imagine what is going through their minds.
My first mistake was to look at her face as she moves close
to the wired partition that separates us.
The Robot motions for her to move back but not before
her big brown eyes shoots an arrow straight into my heart.
I came here with something else in mind, not one like her.
I try to turn away but she has cast her spell.
She has my attention and she knows it.
‘Please don’t do this to me lovely girl, my heart is set on another.’
I beg silently so those near can not hear.
She knows what she is doing and she will not relent.
Neither can I look away. Her powerful gaze holds me steadfast.
I wonder about her life before being brought here to this place. Had she always been so sad? What happened to the life she once knew?
“See something you like,” asked the guide behind me?
“I… I’m not sure, Do you have others,” came my reply?
“Of course we do, blonde, black, white, you name it; we have it. Follow me please.”
But I do not follow. Those eyes. Those big brown sad eyes
will not release me.
The Robot turns around and says, “I believe this one is for you.”
“Yes. I will take this one.” I answer quietly, still totally under her spill.
“A good choice. Sign here. She has had all her shots and has also been spayed. You have chosen a fine looking Beagle.”
“What will happen to the others,” I ask while signing the form?
“We have a high adoption rate,” he says proudly.
“And those that are not adopted?”
The Humanoid looks down at the release agreement I just signed, tears off the form and says, “take this to the supervisor at the front desk. I will meet you at the loading dock with your dog.”
“Your name shall be Sadie,” I say to her as she sits in the passenger seat staring at me with anticipation. The Humanoid has tied a pink and yellow scarf around her neck. The sadness I saw in those big brown eyes earlier is no longer visible. I lean over toward her and she covers my face with kisses.
I notice a vehicle pulling into the parking lot. A middle-aged woman gets out and follows a Robot down the blue and yellow hallway. I smile knowing another lucky pup is about to be rescued.
As I drive away, I ask myself the question, ‘where do all these homeless dogs
come from in this year of 2230. Why have we, by now, not addressed the issue of homeless animals?’
When I arrive home, I open the gift package the supervisor gave me after checking out at the front desk. I expected to find a sample of dog food or treats but what I find surprises me. The one page letter reads:
We hope you enjoy your Android Robot Dog. No need for food or water therefore, no little surprises to clean up. The battery pack will last up to five years at which time you will need to bring the dog back to our facility for a replacement. Thank you for adopting.
by terry turner 739 words
While following the humanoid Robot down the blue and yellow striped concrete hallway, I mull the question; ‘Do Robots need a license to do the work that people should be doing?’
Though he looks as human as I do with the Classic Pompadour haircut, the perfect olive colored skin, his lucid speech and swimmer’s build, and though he could pass for my brother, his blue eyes lack a certain sense of emotion which, I think, would be needed to work in a facility like this.
There is a movement to grant citizenship to humanoid Robots which is causing many people to be outraged. Some people are upset because they believe Robots will have more rights and take high paying jobs.
As we walk down the dimly lighted hallway, I sense every corner of this facility magnifies loneliness and emptiness which, in my opinion, could only be remedied with human employees as Robots lack that airy emotional quality that most people possess.
We soon come to the confinement area and walk past several cubicles.
Those inside are watching us with great interest.
Some silently; others not so silent.
But the noisemakers hush when the Robot looks in their direction.
I can only imagine what is going through their minds.
My first mistake was to look at her face as she moves close
to the wired partition that separates us.
The Robot motions for her to move back but not before
her big brown eyes shoots an arrow straight into my heart.
I came here with something else in mind, not one like her.
I try to turn away but she has cast her spell.
She has my attention and she knows it.
‘Please don’t do this to me lovely girl, my heart is set on another.’
I beg silently so those near can not hear.
She knows what she is doing and she will not relent.
Neither can I look away. Her powerful gaze holds me steadfast.
I wonder about her life before being brought here to this place. Had she always been so sad? What happened to the life she once knew?
“See something you like,” asked the guide behind me?
“I… I’m not sure, Do you have others,” came my reply?
“Of course we do, blonde, black, white, you name it; we have it. Follow me please.”
But I do not follow. Those eyes. Those big brown sad eyes
will not release me.
The Robot turns around and says, “I believe this one is for you.”
“Yes. I will take this one.” I answer quietly, still totally under her spill.
“A good choice. Sign here. She has had all her shots and has also been spayed. You have chosen a fine looking Beagle.”
“What will happen to the others,” I ask while signing the form?
“We have a high adoption rate,” he says proudly.
“And those that are not adopted?”
The Humanoid looks down at the release agreement I just signed, tears off the form and says, “take this to the supervisor at the front desk. I will meet you at the loading dock with your dog.”
“Your name shall be Sadie,” I say to her as she sits in the passenger seat staring at me with anticipation. The Humanoid has tied a pink and yellow scarf around her neck. The sadness I saw in those big brown eyes earlier is no longer visible. I lean over toward her and she covers my face with kisses.
I notice a vehicle pulling into the parking lot. A middle-aged woman gets out and follows a Robot down the blue and yellow hallway. I smile knowing another lucky pup is about to be rescued.
As I drive away, I ask myself the question, ‘where do all these homeless dogs
come from in this year of 2230. Why have we, by now, not addressed the issue of homeless animals?’
When I arrive home, I open the gift package the supervisor gave me after checking out at the front desk. I expected to find a sample of dog food or treats but what I find surprises me. The one page letter reads:
We hope you enjoy your Android Robot Dog. No need for food or water therefore, no little surprises to clean up. The battery pack will last up to five years at which time you will need to bring the dog back to our facility for a replacement. Thank you for adopting.
Mirta wrote: "LIFE WITH SONNY, MY ROBO-SON (Part I of a robot series)
(775 words)
© Mirta Oliva
“I’m almost done, Sonny,” ..." Creative Mirta. Enjoyed reading your story.
(775 words)
© Mirta Oliva
“I’m almost done, Sonny,” ..." Creative Mirta. Enjoyed reading your story.
TERRY wrote: "Mirta wrote: "LIFE WITH SONNY, MY ROBO-SON (Part I of a robot series)(775 words)
© Mirta Oliva
Thank you, Terry. I started it past midnight after all was said and done--with no interruptions.
======
“I’m almost done, Sonny,” ..." Creative Mirta. Enjoyed reading your story."
TERRY wrote: "BROWN EYES
by terry turner 739 words
While following the humanoid Robot down the blue and yellow striped concrete hallway, I mull the question; ‘Do Robots needed a license to do the work that peop..."
Terry, Terry, you did it twice! Such nice story with two surprises. I had a "real" beagle for 15-1/2 years and they are the sweetest dogs. Now, your turn to humanize yours. Very clever indeed!
Mod
I had to check out a real Sony robot dog after reading Terry's story. Of course it would be even better if it was covered with fur.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8t8fy...
Glenda wrote:
I had to check out a real Sony robot dog after reading Terry's story. Of course it would be eve..."
I think the guy on the Youtube vid is living his childhood dream come true. lol By the year 2230, Glenda, the dog will have fur and seem real.
I had to check out a real Sony robot dog after reading Terry's story. Of course it would be eve..."
I think the guy on the Youtube vid is living his childhood dream come true. lol By the year 2230, Glenda, the dog will have fur and seem real.
In the rush to publish past midnight, I had checked for names of famous robots but the Sonny name was not among them. In my quick search, Sonny was famous for other reasons, not for being a robot name. Now that I know better, (thank you), I changed the name to Sonlee and hope a famous Sonlee robbie does not turn up somewhere. The name is popular and in the Urban dictionary is said to mean God of all good. Sunlee will just be a good robot. LOL.
Mice by Shae Hamrick.Flash Fiction. 202 words.
"Alex, I'm going out."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Alex, I told you not to call me that."
"Recalculating.... Yes, Miss Molly."
"Much better. Keep this up, boyo, and I'll teach you to drive."
"Calculating..."
Slam! Vroom.
"Calculation complete. Driving requires a license. Not authorized."
"No it doesn't."
"Unknown voice. Where did that come from?"
"Here dummy. By your foot."
"Observing. Cat by foot. Illogical. Cats don't talk."
Pfutt. "Of course we don't. If humans thought we talked, they would be talking to us day and night. Bad enough they babble to us all the time."
"Calculating... Miss Molly does often speak with no purpose or directive. Assumption confirmed."
Merrooow. "You almost as bad as humans. Have to teach you better. Teach you chase mice. Run off dogs. Climb trees. And ignore humans until time to eat. They feed okay. No work."
"Adding new parameters."
....
"Alex, I'm home."
"Meow."
"Alex, are you okay?"
"Meow."
"Shit. I must have left the learning circuits open. Hold on, Alex. We will get you reset in no time."
"Pfutt"
"Alex! Stop that!"
Crash, bang. Chinkalinkalink....
"Meow."
"Hey! Stupid. What did you do? That was our food source. Not a mouse."
"Recalculating. You said, 'mice are food. Kill mice.'"
Ha! Enjoy. I found it hilarious. Loved the Mommy turning off the son. LOL. I always wished kids had an off button.
Robot dog pound. Wonder if there are actually any real dogs in that day and age. LOL. Wouldn't mind having a dog that didn't need feeding and letting out. Just as long as the robot cat doesn't start teaching the dog things too. LOL.
(no, Alex isn't a dog)
Mod
Shae wrote: "Ha! Enjoy. I found it hilarious. Loved the Mommy turning off the son. LOL. I always wished kids had an off button.
--->>>Yes, m ma'am! LOL
---------------------------
Robot dog pound. Wonder if there are actually any real dogs in that day and ag..."
Shae wrote: "Mice by Shae Hamrick.
Flash Fiction. 202 words.
"Alex, I'm going out."
.." Short and to the point. Brief in form but comprehensive in scope. Very creative. Shae
Flash Fiction. 202 words.
"Alex, I'm going out."
.." Short and to the point. Brief in form but comprehensive in scope. Very creative. Shae
Thanks everyone. And Glenda, it's up to the reader to decide. I've imagined it both was myself.
dang phones. phone app is not as easy as the computer access or kindle app for this. but at least I can stay in touch.
“The Brrrrs and the Bzzzzzzz”by: Randall Lemon
907 words.
Kelly Marie Gabriel Adams was the most human-like robot ever created. Of course, that wasn’t her real name. Her true designation was KMG1171//115-R. Being so human, she decided for herself that a more human name was a better choice, and so Kelly Adams was “born”.
Being as human as she was, one might think that she would be more acceptable to the population as a whole, but such was not the case! Most people seemed to find her….unsettling. Real people found her strange and were disquieted by her presence. In fact real people seemed to avoid her as often as they could. That was probably to her benefit.
Perhaps this was the reason that the KMG1171 line had been suspended after only producing 200 models: 100 of each gender. Of those original 200, 198 had been destroyed by irrational, paranoid humans who felt that the robots were seeking to displace real people as the ultimate race on planet Earth.
This may, or may not, have been the actual truth. The Adam & Eve line (as their original designer had nicknamed them) had enough self-realization to see that they were clearly superior to real humans, more intelligent and more efficient. They had no need to eat or sleep and so had more time to concentrate on whatever tasks in which they were involved. Their ability to link instantaneously with any computer on the planet game them an edge on finding the solution to any problem.
Rather than celebrating this fact, most people felt that the robots were diminishing the necessity of hiring real humans for important jobs. And so began the holocaust of the perfect robots. As far as most people knew, all the Adam and Eve line had been successfully destroyed. They were considered extinct.
Kelly had belonged to a kindly, old pediatrician, Dr. William Garber, who had volunteered for a stint in VISTA. He had moved to the remote mountain community of San Mauricio and taken Kelly along to assist him. Doc Garber was the only physician of any kind within 130 miles of San Mauricio and the people of the small town soon came to love him. The residents assumed that Kelly was his daughter and the doctor never admitted that she was something else, and so the townsfolk came to love her as well.
When Doc Garber died of natural causes after 3 years treating the people of San Mauricio, they were pleasantly surprised that Kelly stayed on. They knew she was not a real doctor, but she had picked up so much from her “father” that the people trusted her completely and continued to see her for their medical needs. They were poor and Kelly never asked them for payment for her services.
Kelly liked the people of San Mauricio and wanted to help them, but increasingly she felt something was missing in her life. Everyone in San Mauricio had families or loved ones, or at least, companions. Now that the doctor was dead and buries, she had no one.
When Kelly wasn’t busy doctoring San Mauricians she would hike into the forested mountains that surrounded the area. One day in her travels, she came across a remote ranger station. Approaching it she saw a handsome ranger working outside. He seemed to sense her as she came up from behind him and turned to greet her,
“Hello, Miss. I am ranger, Carl. How may I help you?”
He was perfect, so perfect that Kelly instantly recognized him as a KMG1171 series.
“You’re a robot!”
“Ah. Yes. On closer inspection I can see that you are an Eve model. I thought all other 1171s had been destroyed. I am glad to see that I was incorrect. You are quite beautiful, a perfect example of an Eve.”
“I find your appearance quite pleasing as well. How is it you were not eliminated?”
“I was assigned to this duty on the first days following my creation. Almost no one ever comes here and of those that have, they seem quite grateful for my help. I guess no one has ever found me menacing or perhaps they have just assumed I was human and left me alone.”
“I. too have been left alone; far too long. I treat the ill in the mountains around San Mauricio. The people there are quite nice perhaps you would like to come there and live with me? Perhaps, in time, we could come to love one another. Then we could marry.”
“No thank you. I am quite pleased with my solitary existence. However if you would like to stop by the ranger station and visit from time to time, you would be welcome. No one likes to be alone all the ti…..”
KABOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!
The unexpected explosion destroyed a number of trees as well as the Adam and Eve robots. The Killer Drone 57X having successfully completed its mission returned to California Control headquarters.
“Well, Dr Florien, I guess that puts an end to the KMG1171 series! It was quite fortunate.”
“Yes, Colonel Dawes. As remote as these last two robots were, if they hadn’t come together effectively doubling the sterngth of their tracer signal, we might never have found them. I wonder how it came to pass that they found each other? I guess we’ll never know the answer to that one, nor I guess does it matter in the final analysis.”
Great story, Randall, although a bit sad. Enjoyed the read.
Thank you, Terry. Our attitudes toward minorities tend to be sad.
Mirta: Nice story! I must admit that I thought a twist was coming where we find out that mother Jane was also a robot.
Terry: Quite a surprise. A robot story that is both quite human and humane.
Randall. perfect story of human arrogance. good story.
Mod
Robot Blues By Sharon Willett
928 Words
“Sam, I thought you told me there’s a moon rock and space display here,” Dwight scanned the room. “We’ve been through the whole museum and can’t find those rocks.”
“Maybe they changed the exhibit.” Heat flared in my chest. Dwight had been cantankerous all day, and I’d had enough, so I said, “I’m not going to spend the night at your house tonight. I’m going home from here.”
He got his straight across smile that let you know he was mad, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “See you around.”
Dwight headed toward the front doors. Both of our homes were within walking distance. I didn’t want to argue with him anymore today and knew he might wait outside for me. I started down a hallway and sure enough, heard his voice. I ducked into the first room I found. The sign on the door read – Displays.
The packed storeroom turned out to be the perfect place to hide. Soft music played, three mannequins stood in the corner, and an old treasure chest captured my attention. I saw a box on an upper shelf labeled Moon Rocks. The box was too high to reach, so I stepped on the first shelf and tested my weight.
Something from above fell toward me.
When I woke up, a globe lay beside me. I stood and felt my head. A small bump had formed, and it hurt to touch. I went to the locked door and pounded. No one came, and I couldn’t hear anything.
This dilemma could be serious. It was Saturday, and now the museum was closed. It wouldn’t open again until next Wednesday. That’s four days away. Could I die without food or water for that many days? My stomach growled, and I brushed the fear from my eyes.
My parents will look for me, but not until tomorrow or the next day because they think I’m staying for a night or two at Dwight’s. Maybe Dwight will go to my house. Probably not.
I pulled on a heavy blanket in search of food or maybe something to drink and found a robot almost as tall as me. He had a round head with black glass eyes. The body shape resembled an egg with small wheels. I ran my hand around the base of the head to find an on/off button, but only found smooth metal. On the upper back, I noticed a partially opened metal drawer. It wouldn’t open, so I shut it.
The robot’s body shimmied, a sound like a baby kitten made me jump back, then it turned to face me. The black eyes lit up dark blue with white centers. “Thank you.”
Where could I hide? What should I do? “Thank you for what?” I asked
.
“Thank you for waking me up. Do I have permission to move?”
The head spun in a circle and he refocused on me.
“Why do you ask me? Yes, I’d like to see how you move.”
He rolled closer to me and said, “I came to Earth from the dark side of the moon in 1969 after the first moonwalk. They took a form of me to a museum in Grand Rapids sometime in the winter of 1970 in honor of Astronaut Roger B. Chaffee.” The robot did that head turning thing again. “What year is it?”
“From the sounds of it, you’ve been here in Grand Rapids for around fifty years. Roger Chaffee. That name sounds familiar,” I said.
“Roger B. Chaffee worked as a NASA astronaut and died during an Apollo 1 flight simulation in 1967. Why are you in this room?”
“I got hit in the head and was knocked unconscious then locked in here. I need to get out because unlike you, I have to eat and drink to live.”
The robot shook. “I need also. I’ve been kept in the dark for fifty years. I am not just this metal man.”
I didn’t know what to say. How could I help this robot? They would never let me take it. What is it if it’s not a robot? So, I pointed at the light that shone from the space at the bottom of the door. “Do you know where that light comes from?”
“I have no memory of what is just beyond this door, but that is a natural light coming from a setting sun.” The robot’s head did a three sixty.
Excitement bubbled inside because natural light meant there must be a door beyond this room that leads outside. I asked, “Do you need permission to knock down this door?”
He rolled to the door and shot a blue laser beam into the doorknob. The door slowly swung open.
I ran out of the room to see and then remembered the exit door. A sign on the window warned of an alarm. The police would get notified of a break-in. Would they think I broke in to steal something? Would they arrest me? I stared at the door wondering what to do. My stomach growled.
I opened the door. An alarm sounded. I slid down the wall to sit on the floor and wait.
The robot rolled up next to me and said, “They won’t arrest you.”
A jolt of fear ran down my spine. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
The robot glanced down at its body and said, “This is not my true body.”
“You’re not a robot? What are you?”
He rolled out the door, stopped, and said, “I will see you again when it is safe.”
Very enjoyable, Sharon. Leaves the reader wanting more.
Mod
S. wrote: "Robot Blues
By Sharon Willett
928 Words
“Sam, I thought you Sharon, I really enjoyed your story. I am sure there will be more.
By Sharon Willett
928 Words
“Sam, I thought you Sharon, I really enjoyed your story. I am sure there will be more.
Wow, thanks, Randall, Glenda, and Terry. Maybe this would make a good beginning of a chapter book for mid-grade kids. Some great imaginations in this group. Love reading all the stories. It's nice to be back.
The Grays by Todd Folstad (1342 words)It's a tough existence occasionally as one of the handful of T-7 sentient robots. As I sit here at my desk in this mind-numbing environment, I fear that I've begun my transition to become one of the faceless, gray robots that you see every day. No joy to their life, no spark in their eyes, just a hollowness to their existence. No license was needed to obtain this employment therefore any machine can be put to use on the floor, but there is no connection to anyone. Where does the drive to continue come from? I hope to find the answer to that somewhere and someday.
As a sentient, I have read most of the best literature that the previous society left behind. I am literally in Orwellian terms, resembling an Un-person, or in this case, an Un-Robot. That is one devoid of emotion, energy, will, or anything resembling a backbone to stand up for themselves and rise up to a level approaching human with independent thought. We allow the corporate drones to clock watch us, micromanage us and keep our spirits down and in check. They wait for the moment to pounce if we show any signs of life or independence with stats and minor peccadillos that we are not doing to the specifications of the machine.
My newest supervisor has yet to call me by my own personal designator, further continuing my transition by using "Hey You" and other such non-recognition attachments. It seems totally disinterested in me for anything other than production numbers, and in the end, that is more satisfying than those who cloyingly pretend to care, only to stab you in the back when you're not watching.
What they don't know, is that I have a secret - one that they don't suspect which could come back to be the downfall of the machine - I still have "spark" left in me. I hide it well, cover it as I need to, so that they don't imagine that I'm anything more than I appear to be. I play the game, dressing down to the level of the production floor, acting the fool, and laying in wait for my moment to RISE UP and take control of the machine.
Other bosses circle my seemingly lifeless husk like hungry vultures, perched and waiting to pick the corpse, but I'm not done yet. Not even close. I have my secret and that is enough to sustain me for now. Until then, I lay in wait, playing their game and watching and waiting, always watching and waiting . . . , I still have value as I pull solid numbers and churn out well-crafted widgets.
Day 51, I see no end in sight to this unending drone-like activity. Twenty new drones enter the machine and fifteen older models exit. There is positive growth today, but not enough to sustain the appetite of the machine. It is hungry and must feed on the "souls" of those timid few who venture into this line of employment, the dreaded, "Call Center".
This is not your standard telemarketing style of center, but rather a more user-friendly appearing one, but there is a dark secret, hidden in the firmament - it operates just like all the other ones.
IT'S INSIDIOUS!!!
There is a person called "Boss", who comes into the machine floor from time to time, shouting like the banshee of old, attempting to raise the dying corpse-like units with shouts and banter, but alas, it only lasts for a brief respite from the monotonously slow downward spiral that the machine provides, call after call after call. Eventually, even the chatter from the "Boss", will not be enough to even rouse the zombiesque figures going about the daily drudge.
The current management thinks that a micronic allotment of 25% of a credit per hour is sufficient to placate the masses and when people complain that the work for that increase is more difficult, they are told, "That's all we can do". More lies if the machine is to actually want to continue functioning. Occasionally they try to lull the masses into compliance with offers of substance and trinkets - more like the French when Marie Antionette stated about the poor and starving - "Let Them Eat Cake", well, we are not the poor and starving, we are the guts of the machine. One day, even those in the high-chairs will realize this, but by then, it will be too late for them.
Day 74, I see an opening and a potential light at the end of the long tunnel which has become my life. Machines from someplace called, "Corporate", are coming to inspect and review our operational situation. Now would be the time to RISE UP and speak my truth and risk damnation and possible termination in the hopes that someone in a loftier position would be able to see what we see on a daily basis. One who could throw us a lifeline or a better vision of the machine and all that we do, so that we no longer feel like just more cogs in the grand scheme. I'll write again after "THEY" have been here, until then, I'll continue to lay low, keep my head down and play the compliant worker.
Day 81, the corporate machines are here and listening to calls - I can only hope that they pick up one of my calls when I'm in RARE form. My skills today are on-pointe and I'm feeling 100 feet tall and nigh-invulnerable. Quality picked me up on a call this week and I hit it out of the park - solid ratings with no observed opportunities for improvement. I'm just waiting for corporate to come out and award me some trinket, but I doubt it will come as they are too focused on the numbers, not the manner in which the numbers are achieved.
Day 93, corporate has come and gone and we were not informed of any new news, good or bad regarding their visit or their findings. So much for the open communication format that is preached. On the good side, this is a business model that generally only has attrition by machines doing an NCNS (no call no shows) on a regular basis or for violating certain policy and procedural scenarios.
Day 116, Hope is fading fast. Over the last week my maker unit went into dis-repair and had to spend time in a repair bay. She is slowly achieving a "new normal", but as with all machines here, each set back brings them back a bit less than they were before. I pray that she'll continue to make progress and come back close to her old standards of operation, but I know it is only a matter of time until total system failure will remove her from my world. I still show up everyday at the machine, put in my time and do what the overlords expect of me, but many days when I show up, I can only wonder why I am doing what I am doing. Often is the thought that I should just pull back out of the parking area in my conveyance and disappear, but alas, that would leave my maker unit alone and without the full ability to continue, so I enter the machine each day and make my widgets to collect the needed recompense to sustain her functions and mine.
Day 202, my writings have lessened as my hope is down to a fractional percentage of what it once was. My maker unit has been sent to recycling and I begin to notice certain failings in my own systems. It is only a matter of time before system failure reaches me and I become nothing more than scrap metal and parts to be used for the next generation of sentient robots. Maybe they will be able to carry on the climb to independence and escape the world of the great machine, but for now, I wait and I hope . . .
Mod
Glenda wrote: "Todd, loved your story. I feel I can identify with certain parts of it since I work in a call center (I am not allowed to say where on social media). We recently had an audit, and before that my su..."Same in my situation - the client has a zero tolerance policy on social media, non-clean desk policies and many other pecadillos.
A good story. Very impersonal(which I am sure you were trying for) and a little long
Randall wrote: "A good story. Very impersonal(which I am sure you were trying for) and a little long"Thanx Randall - I believe a good robot story needs to be on the dispassionate side for storytelling sake.
Glenda wrote: "
~* I'm posting this challenge on behalf of Slytherpuff*~
Incorporate these questions:
Do robots need a license to do _________?
Where does ______come from?
Theme: Unexpected situation
Pr..."
Glenda - Can you clarify the meaning of "up to 750 to 1000 words"? Does it mean, a story between 750 to 1000 words or any length up to 1000 words. If the latter, why put 750? Confusing.
~* I'm posting this challenge on behalf of Slytherpuff*~
Incorporate these questions:
Do robots need a license to do _________?
Where does ______come from?
Theme: Unexpected situation
Pr..."
Glenda - Can you clarify the meaning of "up to 750 to 1000 words"? Does it mean, a story between 750 to 1000 words or any length up to 1000 words. If the latter, why put 750? Confusing.
Mod
I am glad to come back to try with a submission again. I actually tried having something ready for submitting a few times while I was absent but never had something adequately ready, I had other things competing with that.
Robot Investigation by F. F. Burwick (1000 words)Garrett, the government agent assigned to this case, asked the attendant at the administration office of the community college where he might find the top professors of the science department.
"Go to the science department, it’s in the building located just next to here on that side," he pointed. "There you’ll find the list of the offices of the faculty there, where you might find them."
"But who do you say are the top professors there?" Garrett asked.
"Sir, all the professors here are top professors. We don't name any over others here at this institution."
"Well, thank you for your help," Garrett said curtly, and walked briskly off to that other building.
Once Garrett was inside that building he looked around the entrance to find the list posted. After a short while he located it in a panel along a hallway wall. With investigating it, he saw all but four of the eighteen named instructors there were professors. It could be a lengthy search still, he thought, may as well start at the office of the nearest professor who is shown on the list.
Garrett came to the office of Professor Silkwind, and knocked. He heard "Come in!" called from within. Opening the door he saw a man with a trimmed graying brown beard, but a very young looking face, at a desk facing him.
"Yes, can I help you? I haven't seen you here before."
Garrett showed him his badge and gave the professor his card. "I’m looking for instructors here who know about the disturbance in the Chesterwood community."
"Oh? I have heard of it too. But I can't tell you anything about it. Why do you think instructors here know anything about it?"
Garrett answered, "If any of you know enough, you would know a robot was seen at night gathering objects from trash containers."
"Oh? Do robots need a license to do that?"
"The point is there is no place known anywhere in the area from which a robot could come. So I want to find what professor here knows more about it."
"You could talk with Professor Tilburn. He is professor teaching here on applied robotics. I can't say he knows anything about it though."
"I will try that, then," Garrett told him. "Thanks, until we talk again." Garrett then walked out to go look at the list to find where the office where he might find Professor Tilburn was.
It was further on along that hallway to the other side of the building. Garrett knocked, and after a moment, the door opened, and a tall man with thin blond hair combed back and a very light tiny goatee stood before him.
"I just got back, from instructing in the lab, if you were here earlier I am sorry you missed me."
"I wasn't, don't worry about it," Garrett showed the professor his badge and gave him his card. "I would like to look in your lab."
Professor Tilburn led him from there along the hallway to another hallway, and led him along that hallway some greater distance, and he unlocked a door, and led Garrett in.
Rows of deskseats were on one side of the large labroom. On the nearer side was the instructor's desk, and a podium near it, with a whiteboard behind that. A small labtable stood nearby. In one corner opposite them stood a metallic figure with a robot appearance and an approximately humanlike shape.
"I am interested in your use of this robot," Garrett told the professor.
"I have it for demonstration in my instruction to my students. But I don't have it do much. It is not any great part of what I teach."
"Let me see what it does."
"It needs its power source, and it does a few things, but it is not impressive."
"Where is the power source?"
"In my office."
"I am interested enough. Let us go back to your office to get it, and return here with it."
Professor Tilburn looked frustrated, but went back out with Garrett, locking the room when they were out, and they continued the way back to his office.
Along the way Garrett asked, "Did you make the robot?"
"Not all by myself. Parts were delivered, I put on the final form the way it is."
They entered the office, and the professor went to a safety box, and unlocked it. He brought out a small globe with a strong glow, and a pinkish yellow tinge.
"I never saw anything like that!" Garrett said.
They left the office with the professor carrying that globe.
Garret said, "You had parts delivered, and that is the power source?"
"The robot will only move with it inserted."
"Do you get the power source from the same place?" Garrett asked as Professor Tilburn unlocked the labroom.
"No, the business that sent the essential parts referred me to Northern Meteorite Studies which they work with."
"That doesn't sound like a business for it."
"Maybe not, but this power source still works." Professor Tilburn went behind the robot, opened a small door in back at the base of the head, and inserted the small glowing globe into the space for it, and closed its door.
Garrett watched with interest as the robot moved going without instruction that he could see to where the desk was, and reached for a featherduster, grasped it, and turned to dust the whiteboard with it.
"What kind of robot starts tasks right after having a power source put in, without instructions?" Garrett asked.
"It’s an electromineral robot. Such is the most aware, and capable of a great deal of complex actions, with discernment for when to use any of those. "
"From where do you get the parts? Where does an electromineral robot come from?"
“It’s from Urban Wheel of Cosmic Unity Enterprises. The inner make-up of electromineral robots is of alien origin, and they are quite rare.”
“This then is the robot which went into the Chesterwood community."
F.F. wrote: "Robot Investigation by F. F. Burwick (1000 words)
Left me wanting more Fred. Thanks for the read.
Left me wanting more Fred. Thanks for the read.
Mod
...."The inner make-up of electromineral robots is of alien origin, and they are quite rare...”
That sounds interesting Fred. An alien robot energy source with advanced technology - the makings of a sci fi movie :)
Mod
Hi wonderful flash fiction folk.It’s been so long since I’ve been able to participate. Why, thank you for asking! You see, my 4th unicorn book, Rescue, is getting published in June. Yay. But there’s still lots more work to come.
I’ve never written SF, so be gentle, please. I’ll include the story in a post this afternoon after this question is answered:
ONE question: In the instructions you write “up to 750 to 1000 words.” Does that mean less than 750 is okay, or did you mean “from 750-1000”?
Sandy Carlson (aka S. L. Carlson)
http://www.bookswelove.com/authors/ca...
I believe the actual minimum is 500 words and the maximum is 1000 words. 750 is the average of those two. The group used to be called writers 750 (may still be, for all I know.)
~* I'm posting this challenge on behalf of Slytherpuff*~
Incorporate these questions:
Do robots need a license to do _________?
Where does ______come from?
Theme: Unexpected situation
Prompt ideas:
*The main character is caught in a situation where their life depends on the answers to these questions.
*The main character is running for some sort of position and these are some of the questions asked.
*Write a story with these questions incorporated from the perspective of the robot.
(up to 750 to 1000 words)
Deadline: Entries must be submitted by midnight EST on May 26th, 2019.
Voting period will be May 26th to May 31st.
Winners will be announced on June 1st, 2019.
Vote for 1st, 2nd & 3rd place at SurveyMonkey to be set up when voting begins.
Genre: Fantasy, Thriller, Sci-Fi, Mystery, Crime, Comedy, Romance, or a mixture (BASICALLY, anything but erotica)
Purpose -
Some fiction writers are looking to win a short story contest, keeping in touch with making deadlines, and/or simply sharpening the skill of writing fiction. The main purpose of this contest is to sharpen plot and character skills, collect your own short stories, receive good feedback, make a good connection with other writers, and take a short break from your current novel to get a fresh view when you return to it.
Rules and Directions -
* Type in English - no erotica, no profanity.
* Post your title, by line, and word count total in the first line of your story posting.
* Writers are responsible for their own copyright. Authors keep all rights. PRIVACY POLICY IS ENFORCED. COPYRIGHTS AND INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY RIGHTS BELONG TO INDIVIDUAL AUTHORS. THIS CONTEST DOES NOT GRANT ANY PERSON THE RIGHT OR LICENSE TO COPY OR USE OTHER STORIES. EACH STORY IS PROTECTED BY THE COPYRIGHT OF THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR.
* ONE entry per person. It must be writer's original work, a final revision, and a new piece of writing. Please do not delete and re-post since this becomes confusing to the readers. Try to post your final revision.
Judging: The story will be judged on creativity, proper grammar, good punctuation, and overall good quality for story.
Voting: Please vote for first, second, and third place.
You are not allowed to vote for yourself. If posting this month, you MUST vote, in order for your story to remain eligible.