Bot

Cold.

So cold felt the superheated blade grazing my wrist. Isn’t it funny? This knife’s blade burns at 245 grades Celsius, yet, when placed on an open wound, it feels cold as ice. I’ve done this so many times already; I didn’t even have to turn on the apartment’s lights. Don’t know if I should be proud or disappointed of myself, in all honesty. Like, for real, should that even be considered a feat? To be able to cauterize a self-inflicted wound with the lights off? Ha, why am I even alive yet…

#

*Tump,* *Tump*

*Tump*

…

*Tump*

What is that sound, I could only ask. What am I doing on the ground? And why does my head feel like a stampede of drunken elephants crossed through it before falling off a cliff. The heat knife still rested on my hand. I shoved it away almost as if I was trying to kill a fly before checking my wrist. Another scar; why I’m not surprised. I’m such a trash, couldn’t I for once resist, no. You had to come and do what you always do; you had to screw up, right? Just look at this mess, there’s still blood in the sink and the heat knife’s batteries are about to go dead. Not only that, most your jackets and long-sleeved shirts are filthy, frigging filthy man.

Shut up.

*TUMP TUMP TUMP*

Is that the door? No way, I mean, when was the last time someone pounded at the door? We have automatic ring bells. Not even someone as stupid as me could pound at the door. I needed to see what that noise was; I went to the door and effectively, there was no one. So from where did that pounding come from? I tried to forget about that; decided it was time to do cleaning. Took the knife to the kitchen and opened the sink valve. Stared at the sink as water embed with blood -my blood, sunk deep into it. How many litters of that are still in my body?

#

I walked to my apartment’s small living room. A couch, a night table, and a TV hanging from the wall, all with filthy robes on them, are what lay in this area of my home. I don’t know why did people before used to think now we would have machines and robots to do all the housework for us. I mean, yeah they do exist, but do you have any idea of how expensive those things are? A person with the salary I get wouldn’t be able to get one of those. Unless they decided cleaning’s more important than paying taxes; then I guess one could get them. But surprise surprise, I’m not one of those. I’m just a 22-year old guy living in an old apartment in the Ribs, one of the poorest zones in the city.

After picking up all the filthy clothes and putting them in the washing machine, I checked the time. Judging from the small amount of artificial light that enters through the window, I’d say it’s pretty late. When I tapped on my phone, the digits 3:45 with the letters AM at their side appeared on the display.

#

Bloody hell. I’ll have to leave in around two hours to get the transport. I have to be in work at seven, but it takes me two hours to get there. I jumped to the bed and let my eyes close as a pair of scissors. I tried to calm down and ease my breathing. There’s no need to rush. For a second I felt like a current of water in a river, as a gust of wind in a Saturday night. But at all the sudden, I sensed my heartbeats fasten, my eyes got watery. I sat on the bed rubbing them to clear my sight. I wanted to get some rest before leaving, but my body had other plans.

*Beep beep,* *beep beep.* That was the alarm beeping, I used a voice command to shut it off before the next rampage of beeps. I was already awake; I didn’t sleep any, like, at all. 4:45 AM, time to get ready and head to work. I walked past to the bathroom, where I stood under the shower, opened the valve and let the rush of cold liquid come forth, enveloping me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up for a second. I closed my eyes and let my head rest on the wall before cleaning body.

Each time I rubbed the sponge on a certain area; I counted the bumps I felt. One, two, three, four, five, six… One, two, three, four… One, two, three… One, two three, four, five, six, seven, eight. So eight on my right arm, six on the left, four on my right leg, three on the left, making a total of 21. Twenty-one scars spread on my skin, all provoked by myself, I can’t even take care of my body, oh no I do the total opposite. I destroy it.

#

5:00 AM. I locked the apartment’s door; no one around here should be able to break that thing. It’s an electromagnetic lock activated with frequency waves. This means that of all the millions of frequencies, someone would have to try every and each one to find the correct and break in. After making sure everything’s alright and running five-stories down stairs (The elevator broke), I reached the ‘bus’ stop, where a hovering metal box with windows came to pick me up. The morning was still dark, too dark. The sun usually rises around 5:30 in this area of the planet, but now it feels darker than ever. I can see a glitter of light coming from the horizon, but I can still feel it. Today is gonna be a dark day.

#

After two buses and walking a few blocks I reached my workplace, a big digital banner reads ‘FAZCO INC,’ announcing the company’s name. My watch reads 6:56 AM. If I run I might be able to reach the scanner on time. So I did, I ran to the scanner in the inner areas of the building, why was that thing so far anyways? Shouldn’t it be right in the entrance?

7:01 AM the clock marked the moment I put my finger on the screen. I sighed, exhaling the air I held for two minutes straight. Took off my jacket and walked to my desk, where I would sit for the next 12 hours attending calls of people who have problems with their electronics, phones, drones, computers, TVs, and all that stuff I could barely get for myself.

#

Four hours passed. Eleven persons called, three hanged satisfied, guess what all others did. They yelled, they expressed on me the rage they had towards their malfunctioning devices. Certainly I wasn’t the one to damage it, but I can’t help but feel guilty. I couldn’t help those persons sort out what was happening with their devices, which means they will call again either tomorrow or in a few hours, just to yell even more to the guy unlucky enough to pick up the phone.

Finally, seven in the afternoon. I rose from my chair only to find my boss standing a few meters away, signaling me to follow him. As expected, I do so. I knew this would happen, you had screw it up again didn’t you, oh boy I wouldn’t be surprised you get fired right now. What are you going to do afterwards? You won’t be able to pay rent, and when everyone sees your debts, no one’s going to contract you. You are going to end up in the streets, don’t forget that. Don’t forget a single word of what I’m telling you boy because-

Please, stop.

I entered my boss’ office. The crystal door closes afterwards. He proceeds to sit behind his desk, takes off his tie, and looks at me dead in the eye.

“Woodwell,” he announced my last name as his feet found rest on the desk. I hate it when he does that.

“Sir?” I replied, trying not to sound nervous, although I’m sure he noticed the sweat going down my front and the knot I constantly tried to swallow. He made a requirement we call him ‘sir.’

“Tell me, ‘many calls you attended today?”

“21,” I couldn’t help but let a mouche full of saliva down my throat. “Sir.”

“Oh, no’, can you tell me ‘at’s our slogan?” His voice sounded sarcastic; there wasn’t a grin to accompany it though.

“All calls guaranteed to leave a smile on your face,” my back straightened, my sight was sent to the roof, and my hands warped from my pockets to my back. It was a short yet annoying slogan if you ask me. As employees we were all required to memorize that lie.

“Oh, so you remember it.” There’s the grin. “Then tell me ‘y.” His look turned serious, something bad is coming. “Tell me, you fucktard, ‘y 19 of those fucking 21 calls ‘ere hanged with an angry customer on the other side of the bloody line.” His voice rose, but he wasn’t yelling, it was something in between that scared me. Each time he talks like I feel so small, so powerless.

I couldn’t say a thing. My head bowed without a thought, it was already a custom of mine. Ha, didn’t I tell you this would happen? You handle everything the same way, and that is not handling it all. Now-

Silence.

“Not a ‘ord, heh.” He dragged his feet to the floor. “As I expected. Next time you fuck up this bad I’ll take care myself of kicking you out of the damn building.” He took a tobacco and lighted it before I could say a word. “Get the fuck out of my office.”

I kept silence and just left. I wanted to say something. A part buried long time ago, deep inside of me, wanted to say something. To make him aware of what his subordinates go through every day for 12 hours almost straight. But he always shut me down, he kept me under dominance. But who is to blame but myself? After all, he is myself, making me recognize what in truth I am. A ditch of society, an accident, a waste of organic material, a living being of the worst kind.

#

By the time I reached my apartment, the night enveloped every single trace of natural light. Not even the stars shined that night. Few minutes later, boom, rain decided to pass by the neighborhood. I sat on the couch, not bothering to turn anything on, I preferred to let the lightings light up the room. Perhaps it’s because I didn’t want there to be light at all, I didn’t want to look at anything. I didn’t want anything. All of the sudden, the pounding started again, *tump tump.* This time it was much clearer, definitely coming from the roof. I went to check what it was, the noise made me feel awful. I needed it to stop. My steps rocketed from the stairs; I don’t know why I was running.

My stop was forced; I almost hit the rooftop’s door. I slashed my keycard through the gap on the wall aside the door, in a second, the door slid up. I saw myself facing nothing before going through the door. There isn’t anything here, is what I told myself before my eyes could spot a shadow emerging from a box to the far left. I activated my phone’s light function and pointed at the area where the shadow was; I walked towards it. To be honest, I don’t know why I did so. Why would I go check that? It’s more likely to kill me than anything else, I mean, who could be here in the rain at this time? Those thoughts dashed through my mind, but still, I walked forth. I was wet; my clothing felt as heavy as two bags of sand, but still, I walked forth. I was scared, my hands trembled and there was no sight of me stopping them, but still, I walked forth. I was cold, every hair on every inch of my body stood up to face my clothing. But still, I walked forth.

I peeked behind the box, trying to spot the shadow again. I couldn’t find anything, until I heard a sound come from my left. It wasn’t a normal sound, it felt metallic, robotic. I knew these kind of things, but it was weird. Drones and robots are given human voices, yet this sounded so… digital. I turned to face the source of the voice, I was sure it was some sort of old video tape or something of the like, even under the rain those things work. But what I found was much greater. I saw a big metal figure, standing no less than 6,7 feet tall, I could spot yellow sparks as eyes positioned on the drone’s face. My heart was racing, my hands started sweating, without command, my feet walked back, each step felt calculated, but I know better; they weren’t. As I retreated, the machine advanced, following each of my steps with demonic accuracy. The moment came when I felt an empty hull under one of my feet, then I was over with. I felt the wind dragging me, the raindrops pushing me down.

I was falling.

I was numb, my mind as an empty paper sheet. The only thing I could see was the moon covered by the drone’s silhouette as it extended its arm and held my hand before I could reach the no returning point. It lifted me, placed me with care above a metal square-shaped thing close to the borders.

The robot’s yellow eyes turned green before that metallic voice of before started playing.

“Protocol 5521 started. Analyzing sample. Are you Alex Woodwell?” it asked me.

“Uh? Y-yes.” I was still scared. This robot just saved my life! But my heart was still racing, I could feel the blood pumping through my entire body. I can’t remember what I thought at that moment, if I thought anything at all. I can only remember what happened.

“Identity confirmed. Subject found. Protocol 5521 finished. Starting protocol 5522. Must take subject name Alex to safe location.” After saying this, the robot held me up, throwing me over its shoulder, and walked downstairs.

“Uhh, l-let me down,” I didn’t dare hit it, or even fight against it. I just wanted it to let me down so I could walk to my apartment.

“Protocol 4369. Request accepted.” I still couldn’t make up its features thanks to the building’s poor lightning. The robot let me down on the stairs.

Holding my right leg (It got cramped), I walked to my apartment. The sound of metal hitting, clashing against the floor told me all I needed to know. For some reason the robot was following me. I let it into my home, although this had all the chances of going wrong in ways I couldn’t even imagine, I let it in regardless. I was curious, sickened, but curious to know what this piece of technology had to offer. Not only that, why in the world would it be on the roof?

I locked the door and turned on the lights. The robot kept staring at me with its yellow eyes. Now that there’s some respectable lightning, I could spot the machine’s features. It really resembled a human male; there was no space on the head that could represent a mouth, just a straight line a few inches below the eyes. There were no emblems or writings on the drone’s metallic plate, which is pretty weird; machinists usually like to let people know who was the responsible of their ‘beauties.’

The machine seems to be intelligent enough to understand spoken language, after all, it did obey to my petition of letting me walk, it also registered my name in hopes of finding my identity. I walked around it. From what time is this aberration? Why did it register my identity? And what’s protocol 5522? Questions were as a river fueled by months of stop-less rain, flooding my mind each second that passed. I stopped to face him, looking into its yellow eyes. Didn’t lose anything by asking it some things.

“What are you?” Was my question, my voice came out much more agitated than I thought it would, I mean, my heartbeat had already normalized and my breathing was average but there was something unsettling about this specific drone.

First passed seconds, then minutes. Not a word. Perhaps it could only speak when its system found fit. I’ll never understand these machines’ behavior. Maybe if I could open the control panel I could see what this machine is exactly. So I rocketed for my tools under the sink. Then I came back with a box of screwdrivers, wrenches and things of the like. Finding the backdoor on the drone wasn’t hard, I mean, one just had to see which plate has four screws. So after quickly opening it thanks to my electric screwdriver, I found a small screen with a keyboard and a USB port- ancient technology. There were four digits on the back of the plate: 2057. That must be the year in which this robot was constructed.

In that area I could find various details about the robot, it was built by RobCo Inc in 2057, this is the UVA34Z Mark II. I tried to hack into the robot’s system, but its security software was too advanced for me (must’ve been updated recently). I decided to just leave it like that, perhaps tomorrow I could dig in deeper, I told myself in comfort.

#

This night I found peaceful rest, I slept with ease and woke up to the beep of the alarm. When the time came for me to leave, the robot followed me. I don’t really know what triggered this attitude in the machine, but it should come out soon. Honestly, this had me nervous, having a 7-feet tall bot on your steps can be something frightening every now and then. The clock marked 6:58 by the time my fingerprints were set in the scanner, notifying the system of my presence.

It was funny. Robots are an everyday thing, but people turned to see when they noticed the bot behind me, it was also annoying though, having all those eyes on me. It brought back memories, memories I would rather not remember.

#

At work, the day passed with ease; 150 calls lined with me, 50 of them hanged satisfied. I really hoped everything to move swiftly today, but it is me we are talking after all; there’s no such thing as things going swiftly. Somehow I managed to ignore the constant staring of the bot, it kept looking at me. But something odd happened, during lunch, I almost fell off my chair, but the bot took a hold of me before I could touch the floor and lifted me to the chair before moving to its natural unmoving stance.

I don’t talk much to my co-workers; actually, no one talks much here. We are all too busy with our own problems and responsibilities to even consider trying to check on others, so I wasn’t surprised they didn’t even bother to ask my why was there a scary-looking bot guarding my back at all moments. By the end of the day I took my jacket and during my walk to the exit, my boss once again signaled me to follow.

Mhm. Y’know, this won’t be any good. This crazy little pal’ of yours was bound to bring problems. I knew it from the moment we saw it on the roof. What are you going to do know? Nothing, you are going to follow and stand there as he lectures you because he knows exactly what I know, he knows what you are. He has always known you didn’t have the minimum skills to succeed at this work, yet you were given a work out of pure pity and now he’s totally regretting it. You’ve made once again more people to be disappointed of-

I don’t want to hear you.

He was waiting for me with his feet on his desk. Just like yesterday.

“Woodwell, leave your bud’ outside.” He pointed at the bot with his thumb (as weird as it sounds).

“Excuse me sir, b-but I can’t.”

“ ‘Ell doesn’t matter. I see you had lots of ‘ork today heh.” He pointed out. I don’t like the direction this is going. My hands started to sweat; I placed them on my back to avoid him noticing my discomfort, then I realised the bot’s eyes had turned slightly darker, I’m not sure what was happening, but I had no time to worry about that, I could feel my heartbeat speeding, like an old car, slowly raising over its own speed. “Today you broke a fucking record!” He added, this time his voice did raise, he was on the verge, I could tell by the frown on his face.

“So-” I wanted to apologize, but he made a movement with his hand to shut me off, I wasn’t to question his authority so I followed.

“No’ listen here you piece of shithole, you screwed over 100 calls. One-hundred. Frigging. Calls. That’s the biggest screwed over anyone has done here!” He was outrageous, I noticed how veins sprung from his forehead, his lips moved faster than my eyes could follow, it didn’t really matter though. I wasn’t listening to his words.

Hehehe, can’t say I didn’t tell you. Now you won’t even talk, as always, because you don’t have the most minimum self-respect. Your cowardry is just too great isn’t it?

Silence.

No, you are just too afraid to listen to the truth. Your stupidity and ineptitude are the only attributes that characterize you.

“Are you listening to me?!” The boss yelled at me, for the very first time, I heard him yell; it’s much more frightening than I ever thought. “Out of here Woodwell-” He was about to fire me, but I already knew that, something broke in me in that moment, I didn’t burst into tears, tears are something I learned to manage a long time ago. Out of the rule as it was, in that moment the bot advanced and grabbed the boss by the neck. I was speechless, and so was him. The bot’s eyes turned a yellowish red, its metallic joints cracked as my boss’ body was lifted from his chair, it was going to kill him, I knew it. “No! Please leave him!” I dashed forth to the bot, pleading it to leave the poor man live. “Please, don’t do this.” I wasn’t crying, I wanted to, but I didn’t.

The bot opened its hands and my boss- well, ex-boss- dropped to his knees. “Don’t you ever dare to come back here, I’ll make sure you ‘ill never get a job!”

As soon as the bot seemed to transfer to its normal behavior, I ran. I ran out of the building, I ran from the man, I ran from the bot, I ran trying to find peace, but I knew that’s something I’d never accomplish.

#

I reached my apartment; I could barely hold the keycard and open the door, my hands trembled as the waves of an enraged sea, calm is something I have felt just a few times in my life; this was no exception. Not waiting a second, I winded into the apartment to the kitchen, took a knife and tried to slow my breath down; with blade in one hand I walked down to the window, there I sat staring down to the city, it’s a beautiful view isn’t it? All the lights, vehicles, buildings, but of course, I tell myself this just to not think of the cold steel that, as a cat’s tongue, grazes my skin.

There are no reasons for you to stay here. There are no reasons for you to be alive. We both knew that this run at life was a worthless effort to deny the truth, and this is all your fault, you made the truth what it is and now it can’t be changed. You know what you have to do to end this, you know there is only one remedy.

I eased my grip, let the blade rest on my wrist’s skin, I welcomed it as a long lost child who had just returned home and it found comfort between the marks of the past attempts against my well-being. Salty tears began to spring from my eyes and slid down my cheeks, then I commanded my arm to glide and let the cold blade run, piercing my veins, but it didn't’. My body didn’t follow; then I noticed, I realized, I felt the freezing touch of a hand, my eyes rolled to my left in order to find that bot was holding my arm, not allowing it to move the blade. His head tilted to the side; his eyes glew a pleasing color; a tone that reminded me of the old world’s natural plains, of the big oak trees with branches full of leaves that would die and reborn for eternity, of the soft fern that father used to grow in pots of clay. A green color so vivid, so relieving.

I struggled to set myself free and finish the business, but he didn’t let, he held both of my arms while producing a small pitching sound, it sounded like that of robots in old science fiction movies. Then, as I tasted my own tears, as I remembered how mother used to hold me each time she found me like this, as I pictured the tight hug of the father that once lived, I broke. My hand opened, letting the knife drop to the floor and I dropped face first to Bot’s chest, my arms wrapped around him as sweat and tears fell on him.

I lifted my sight and saw his gaze, he was looking at me, he wasn’t trying to see through me; there I noticed a feature on his face I hadn’t seen before, I noticed how the corners of the line that resembled his mouth twitched up.

I realized, he was smiling at me.