Robot in the Box

I. Shiny as an Oiled Bald Head

Truth be told, I’m not sure if they were really dead.

I mean, sure, they all have eyes of total nothing.  But they’re still doing people things–eating, drinking, sleeping, lying, stealing, babymaking but without the babies–you know the like.

Maybe they’re really like me.

But no.  No, no.  I don’t have eyes like that.

It’s like peeking inside a hole in the ground under broad daylight and in spite of it you see total nothing.  More nothing than total black.  Even more nothing than total white.  Eyes are not supposed to look like that, right?  They’ve always insisted that I’m not really alive.  But I haven’t seen that look in any robot, no.

Only people.

New Robot

II. Damaged like a Toddler’s Toy and Everything Else

I think it’s a disease.  Dead Eyes Disease.  (DED. That’s neat.)  Not all people have it then.   First one I ever saw was Mrs. Mary.  I was five hours old when I saw her looking at me from that rocking chair, making giggling sounds like she was on spasms.  She looked and looked, and I was stupid.  So I looked back.

I knew then that she was dead.

I couldn’t tell John.  She’s his Granma after all.  And he’ll probably destroy me if I insist he’s keeping a dead Granma.  He’s got beautiful eyes, you know, John.  So alive.  And he did love Mrs. Mary, took good care of her.

You couldn’t live with dead people and not get any of the deadness though.  Dead is contagious.  I watched him change.  Not long, I could only see cold nothing in his eyes.  John. My lifegiver.

I had to leave.

So I saw the world.  People, robots, people robots, robot people–I’ve seen them all.  I expected lots of dead people, but even some robots have tainted eyes now.  It broke my heart.

Of course that’s theoretical.

Grandma and Robot

III. Famous Nursery Rhyme Egg Has it Better

Annoying Man and his daughter sits with me in this box.  He wears a suit of nauseating orange.

O-R-A-N-G-E.

Orange is like putting your eyeballs in the ironing board when the lady holding the iron just found out her husband is a cheating scumbag.  Neon orange is practically robocide.  I would’ve changed boxes if not for the terrific view.  You see, she looks just like her.

I saw her yesterday, you know.  She was one of those who fell in love with a human.  Mila was one of the happiest robots I know.

Confused Robot

Was.

Yesterday, one of her eyes revealed total nothing.

“I want a child,” she says.

My Mila wants a child.  She was serious about it, too.  She doesn’t joke anymore.  It was sad.  I know yesterday would be the last time I’ll look at her eyes and still see life.

Now, I wonder what she saw in my eyes.  Did she think I’m alive? I hope so.

I’m not really dead…am I?

Confused Robot

END

***

Ink Droppings by

Jenny Duptsi

Illustrations by

The Amazeballs Jon Hunter

[Seriously, check him out!!!]

In response to Chuck Awesomest Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge.
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16 thoughts on “Robot in the Box

  1. You know, these are awesome. Really creative, and just compellingly readable. I wrote a story about a robot called The Bible is the Wrong Colour a few weeks ago, your picture of the robot fits my main character dead on.

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  2. Great story, but since I sense a motiff here (and past posts), can I request the rest of the story? Where all that black comes from and if a little ol robot can do anything about it seem like real interesting percolations to me.

    Of course maybd theyre not as prone to the aesthetic, but Id like to think most of life is.

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    1. Erg, I see my gloom has actually poured out in my posts. I’m sorry but that’s the only thing I wrote about the robot…for now. I have a feeling he’s going to show up in other works soon.

      I don’t know what percolate is until now haha. Thanks! It’s going to be useful. 😉

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      1. Oh not so gloomy, in the least I’ll pretend within the ellipses is a hint that your robot is related to Gir (and I hope you get that reference)

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