by Ryan Arey
Part 1: Home
Peggy walked to school as fires burned across the morning horizon.
Around her cul-de-sac, neighbors greeted each other as they headed off to work. The Khans, a robust family of eight, had their usual struggles loading their children into the minivan.
Peggy smiled at the perpetual chaos. Two young Khans were slapping each other, one of the teenagers was wailing “Where’s my BAG?” while their toddler halted underfoot and pointed to the distant flames:
“Mommy, look! Pretty!”
“Yes Zoe, the fires are very pretty. Go change your shoes, they don’t match.”
“I don’t want to, these are PRETTY!”
The Khans’ house robot stepped into the yard and brought order to the morning. The metal man was a standard model, with thin arms and legs, box body, and a square head with two small headlights for eyes. It carried the teenager’s bag, Mr. Khan’s wallet, and matching shoes for the little one—all while burping their baby on its shoulder. As the family van pulled away, the robot waved goodbye from the porch.
I wish we had a nice robot like that, Peggy thought. M1KL is just weird.
Earlier, M1KL stared intently at Peggy while she ate her breakfast. Every time she bit her scrambled eggs, white light pulsed from its eyes.
She threw her fork on the plate. “Mom! The robot is watching me again!”
Her father answered from the next room, “Just ask him to stop.”
“Could you please stop watching me, Michael?”
The robot’s eyes flickered yellow and blue as it spoke, “I apologize, Peggy. I was attempting to evaluate the pleasure you felt while masticating eggs–”
“They’re amazing. I love these eggs. They are literally, the most amazing eggs any person has ever had in their mouth. Oh my god, thank you. Now stop looking at me.”
Mom was fiddling with settings on her camera. “Honey, be nice to Michael.”
“Why, Mom? You don’t tell me to be nice to the kettle.”
“No, but manners are free. Nice to robots, nice to people.”
“No one gives a damn if you’re mean to a robot.”
“What’s that language?” Dad shouted from the next room.
“Nothing Dad, Mom just wants me to consider the feelings of inanimate objects.”
“Animate objects, petal,” Dad entered the kitchen, tying his tie. “Inanimate means they don’t move…”
“God, Dad don’t take it personally.”
“…and there’s nothing wrong with him wanting feedback. At work we call that ‘assessment protocol’.”
M1KL’s servos hummed as he nodded; Peggy rolled her eyes and snatched her book from the table.
Mom was waiting with her camera ready. “Oh, my little baby’s last day–”
Peggy walked by her and out the door. Once outside, she felt a heavy thud of guilt. Why take that moment from her? You’re just shitty sometimes.
When she arrived at Bonnie’s house, she decided it was best to wait outside. Otherwise, her best friend’s parents would babble on about “their big last day.”
God, Bonnie, you’re taking forever.
Down the block, a pair of robots were hanging a banner across the street:
CIRCLEVIEW 2.0 COMING SOON!
About time, they’ve been saying that forever.
Across the street, Mr. Eubanks was pushing his silent lawn mower across his tiny yard. Spotting Peggy, he fluttered his fingers in a wave.
“Eww god, are you flirting with Mr. Eubanks?” Bonnie called out to her.
“Gross! Let’s go.” They walked away, but Peggy could feel Mr. Eubanks’ eyes. “He’s so creepy.”
“Why? I think he’s nice.”
“It’s like, ‘stop pushing your mower when it’s not even on.”’
“So, he likes to mow.”
“Bonnie, he does it to perv.”
“Maybe he just likes his routine.”
“Well the grass is made of plastic and can’t grow, so he should perv from the porch.”
“Really? It smells real.” Bonnie changed the subject, “Sooo… your parents make a big fuss today?”
“Ugh, my mom tried. Cringe. Yours?”
“Yeah, it was kinda sweet. SH3RYL took some photos of us, and they made me a cute little card.”
“You’re lucky. All my robot does is audit me.” She pushed her nose into Bonnie’s cheek and spoke in a robotic voice, “Are you enjoying your eggs, Peggy? My sensors indicate you are beginning your period in 5, 4, 3…”
Bonnie laughed. “Why do you still have your book? Are you actually going to class on the last day?”
“Nooooo. I forgot to return it. Then I have to get my career passport and letter of rec from Mrs. Nestor… and-I-AM-OUT. My last day of work study, too.”
“God you’re so lucky, you’re going to be set.”
“It kinda sucks there.”
“I thought you wanted to work in renovation?”
“Reno’s okay. Seemed better when Dad talked about it.” She stamped her feet like they each weighed a hundred pounds, “It’s… just… so… BORING.”
Bonnie shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind it. Make good money, at least. Save up, get a house. Take vacations to the beach.”
“Screw that! I want to live at the beach.”
Bonnie cocked her head forty-five degrees. “I never thought of doing that.”
“Well, yeah, if the fires don’t go out we’ll all be living by the water anyways.”
“I never thought of that either.”
A crossing guard stopped them and waved on a school bus. A pool of kindergarteners accumulated around them.
“The fires are pretty today, huh?” Bonnie asked.
Peggy noticed a little boy, with his finger in his nose. Not picking his nose, but resting his finger inside his nostril, like it had burrowed inside for safety.
“Hey, kid!” The boy looked at her with dim eyes. She made a corkscrew gesture with her finger, “Poop or got off the potty.” The child withdrew the little trooper from his nostril.
“Do you think they’re getting dimmer?”
Peggy looked at the pulsating red and yellow horizon, and shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I think they’re getting dimmer. Oh, there’s Brad.” Bonnie’s boyfriend was hanging by the school entrance. “BRAD!” she bellowed, straight into Peggy’s ear.
They locked eyes and he waved. Bonnie bit her lower lip. “God, I am attracted to that boy.”
Peggy laughed and said in her robot voice: “I am pleased you have found your mate.”
Bonnie laughed, too. “We’ll see you after work?”
They hugged. “Have a good last day ‘Margaret’.”
“You too ‘Bonita’.” Bonnie joined Brad, and they kissed. Their eyes shined for one another while Peggy watched, alone.
Part 2: School
Peggy lingered outside the school’s office, wondering if she should sign in. As of today she wasn’t a student, and all visitors had to wear a name badge. She’d been an office helper for the whole of her senior year, and the secretaries fawned over her. She could see the scene unfold:
Peggy walks into the office, drops the purse from her shoulder and says, “I wasn’t sure if I should sign in, since I’m technically not a student.” Then Norma, Naomi, and Denise would giggle at her sweetnesss. Sweet Peggy, always wanting to do the right thing, “Oh well, I guess we should sign you in then, how do you spell your name? Oh just kidding dear heart, here’s your name tag. We’re going to miss you.” Then there would be a chorus of goodbyes, like trying to clink every last person’s glass at the end of a toast. “Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.”
I’ve had enough of fake.
She proceeded—without a hall pass. I dare a janitor to start something. She knocked once on Mrs. Nestor’s door and stepped inside.
“Hi Mrs. Nestor, sorry, I’m here to pick up my career passport.”
Two dozen ninth graders turned to look at her. Mrs. Nestor scowled. “You’re interrupting Brian’s presentation. Take a seat and wait your turn.”
“I just wanted–”
“I understand. Please take a seat.”
Peggy sighed at the top of her lungs and threw herself into an empty seat. Up front, the kid’s report trembled in his hands as he read aloud:
“And then it got hot. So super hot that everyplace in America was almost gone and people went away from Circleview. It was bad and a lot of people died. Our robots helped the people carry stuff and when some of the people died the robots came back home with our stuff.
“And when everything cooled down Americans left Canada and came back home to build a wall to keep the fires out because we are smart. That is how we are home now, here at home, at home now, breathing the air once again today. This is the end.”
I don’t know kid. Sounds like robots did the heavy lifting. But way to run up the word count at the end.
Mrs. Nestor stood up. “Thank you, Brian.” The class applauded.
“And we’re almost done for the year. I know that every other classroom is watching a movie right now, but not you. Why is that? Why did I make you write a report when your grades are already marked down?” She waited. Mrs. Nestor always made her class answer rhetorical questions.
A spotted boy raised his hand, “Because you’re a hard butt?”
The class chuckled, and Mrs. Nestor smiled. “Well there is that. Why else?”
The same boy answered again, “Because…” He pointed to a sign on the wall and the class read it as a chorus:
“YES!” Mrs. Nestor stamped her foot and pointed at the boy, as she always did when a student impressed her. When Peggy was a freshman, getting a point and stamp was a thrill. Today, she rolled her eyes. As Mrs. Nestor’s teaching assistant, she had seen many… many… many point and stamps.
“We’ve discussed empires and frontiers, wars and heroes, genocide and saviors… and you take your little quizzes…”
Oh, now the hardest tests in school are “little quizzes.” Right.
The bell rang, but she motioned for the students to stay still and made eye contact with Peggy.
“But there is no quiz because you ARE the quiz. The human race was nearly extinct. If it weren’t for the bravery of those late age pioneers, we would be dead. Our cities would have burned to ash, our robots buried in the cinders. But we beat it, didn’t we?”
A student pumped his fist in the air, “That’s right!” A few kids clapped.
“People came back, and we’re rebuilding Circleview, breathing the air again. You have a lot to be proud of. Be proud to be part of the clever human race. People who faced the fires of extinction and said ‘not today.’ Be proud to be Americans who love democracy, and be proud to be from Circleview. This is your time now, to be learners, builders, helpers… to imagine history into existence. Thank you all for your time with me this year. Go make yourselves proud.”
The kids applauded again, and Mrs. Nestor gave them a demure smile. As the kids filed past Peggy, their eyes sparkled with inspiration.
Mrs. Nestor folded her hands in front of her and smiled at Peggy. “I haven’t seen many seniors today. Having a hard time letting go?”
“Sure. I miss getting to hear that exact same lecture every day.”
Mrs. Nestor leveled her gaze. “Is that a sassy compliment or a complement of sass?”
Peggy grinned off her remark. “Yeah, sorry. It’s my last day of work study. I don’t want to be late.” For once, Peggy was grateful for her work study job. It was a good excuse to leave as soon as possible.
“Well then.” Mrs. Nestor opened her desk drawer. “Let me know if you ever need this customized. My address and phone are on the letterhead.” Mrs. Nestor handed over the red career passport folder. “And so it ends.”
Peggy looked down at the red folder in her hands. All formal business between them was done. “Thank you.”
“Do you know what you want to do? Work with your father, I expect.”
“I don’t know. Something. Maybe live near water.”
Mrs. Nestor’s face bent into a frown, and she cocked her head forty-five degrees. “Why, you can’t do that. Don’t waste your talent.” She placed a hand on Peggy’s shoulder. Her breath smelled like mint. “You’re going to do just wonderful Peggy. I’ve always known you would do something big, and I can’t wait to see what that is. You’ll do things we could never… you can’t even see how possible you are.”
“How possible?” Peggy smiled at the unusual word choice.
Mrs. Nestor wiped a tear from her eye. “Yes. How possible.”
“I don’t…” Peggy searched for the right words. “Thank you. Thank you.”
The two women hugged.
Peggy left, tasting the air of the empty hallway. For the first time in her life, she stood in school and didn’t have to be anywhere. She could explore. I’m off the grid!
The school was still being renovated, and most hallways were off-limits. I’ve never been to the other side of the school, because it’s against the rules. “Well, where are your rules now?”
She journeyed to the school’s abandoned wing. Normally the fire doors would be shut, but today they were propped open by a robot work team. A half-dozen lanky metal men stood on ladders, attaching CCTV cameras to the walls.
Renovations were moving down the long hallway, inch by inch. For the first twenty feet or so, the corridor was in pristine shape. The floor tile shined, the paint was fresh, the lockers glistened. But abruptly, the renovations stopped. Past some invisible line, the lockers were unhinged and bent, the paint peeled from grey stone, the floor blanketed with ash. It was like looking through a time portal, seeing the school on its first and last days of existence. The sight made her a little sad. The broken end of the hallway had a story to tell: “the fall of Circleview High.” The renovations were erasing that story, preparing the hall for the next generation.
The robots’ manager, a portly human, was reclined in a chair, eyes shut. “Hey! Is that guy dead?” The robots looked at her. A deep snore bellowed from the dead man, and the robots slammed the door in her face.
That was weird. She looked around. “Anyone else see that?”
She was alone. And she was still holding her history book.
“Damn it.” I hate re-goodbyes. She could just leave the book, but it had her name inside it. What would people think if Peggy Madison left her textbook on the floor? The scandal!
She returned to Mrs. Nestor’s class, thinking it might be nice to chat with her former teacher during her planning period. Peer to peer. The door was ajar, and Mrs. Nestor was talking to a boy from her class. Her hand was on his shoulder, and Peggy clearly heard the words, “Henry, you have no idea how… how possible you are.”
You. Freaking. Skank. Peggy tossed the book across a desk and it spun onto the floor, its pages flailing open. Mrs. Nestor and Henry looked stunned. Peggy gave them the finger and went to work.
Part 3: Work
Peggy’s work-study program was in the Office of Robot Care, Logistical Analysis Division. Her father, Norman Madison, was Division Supervisor of Logistical Strategy. The way he explained his job: “I tell them where to fix and what to nix.”
The way Peggy explained her job: “If I still work here in twenty years, please blow my brains out onto this desk.” She and her the other condemned worked in a bullpen of cubicles, divided by thin fences of canvas and tin. Her narrow desk barely fit the foot-tall stack of papers on her left and the five separate trays on her right. To rebuild Circleview, citizens requested renovations by filing Request Form IO-1220. Peggy used a list of forty criteria to determine if the request would be filed as a Priority 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5. She wasn’t allowed to use her personal discretion; the forty criteria overruled all judgment. It was the sort of work that would eventually be done by a computer, once enough computers were rebuilt.
The Barclay family, who lived a few doors down from Peggy, had a faulty solar panel on the southwest side of their roof. A private residential request would normally drift into the Priority 4 box, but because this one was related to the electrical grid it became a Priority 2. A request to refill fire extinguishers in the hospital would have been Priority 1, like all requests related to extinguishing fires. If there was a “One Sheet,” she got to ring a bell. An office page would collect the paper and the request would be executed the same day. The Priority 5 sheets would be processed sometime in the next couple of months.
“How’s it going, Peggy?”
Darlene, her shift supervisor, loomed over her desk, holding a cupcake on a plate. She was a heavy woman, who challenged the hems of her plain grey pantsuit. Her mouth was fixed into a fake smile. Peggy saw a lot of fake smiles. She was the boss’s daughter.
“Oh, it’s going.”
“Had a lot of Ones today?”
“No, never have. Lots of Twos. Mostly Threes and Fours.”
“Well, that’s how it should be. You know, one time, in the early days, I had five One Sheets… in a row.”
Peggy fixed her own fake smile. Darlene often trumpeted this epic in the break room.
“Five One Sheets… in a row. I couldn’t believe it. Even had my shift supervisor check my work. Thought it had to be a mistake. And do you know who that shift supervisor was?
My dad. “No, who?”
“Your dad. So be patient. You’ve got a big future ahead of you. Here.” She placed the cupcake in the center of Peggy’s desk. “Congratulations on graduating.”
“Thank you so much.” As Darlene walked away, her wide thighs rubbed together like squeaky door hinges. Peggy exiled the cupcake to the farthest corner of her desk, behind the stack of intake papers.
Time passed. Peggy didn’t look at the clock. She arrived at 10, and she was done at 4. It’s definitely not time to leave yet, but it’s probably close to lunch time. It’s at least 11. It feels like 11. At 11 I’ll go to the bathroom. Then have some tea.
Stretch that ten-minute break into fifteen minutes. Then it will be 11:15, practically lunchtime. I can stretch lunch to 1:15, if I’m careful about it. Then after lunch I can stretch every break a bit, then it’s only two hours and forty-five minutes till the end of day. How many forms have I done? Feels like forty. That’s about an hour’s worth of forms, so it’s probably 11:00 by now. She looked at the clock.
It was 10:25. I hope the fires come. I hope they come and burn this whole goddam building down.
A shlubby man, maybe named Dave, was standing by the printer, about five cubicles from Peggy. “Maybe Dave” eyeballed the display. The printer beeped. Maybe Dave sighed. Opened the paper tray, removed a jam, threw the paper into the recycling. Closed the tray. The printer beeped. Dave sighed. Opened the paper tray, removed a jam…
He’s been doing that since I got here.
“Well, hey there, Norman!”
“How’s it going, boss?”
Her father was walking the floor. When she started this job, she thought her dad was popular. Now she knew better. Every “hey boss” was a fake gesture from a fake person. Not that people hated him, but they weren’t that glad to see him.
She was glad to see him though, and loudly whispered: “Dad, hey… Dad!”
“Well, hey there, petal,” he leaned on her cubicle wall. “Have any Ones today?”
“No, just twos and threes.”
“Well hang in there.” He started to walk away.
“Wait… are you going to a meeting right now?”
“Yes, with L & P.”
“Can you take me with you?”
“Yeah, as like… your assistant or something?”
“But I have an assista–”
“Daa-aad, how am I supposed to learn how this place works if I’m in a cubicle all day? I don’t want to rate sheets for the rest of my life, I want to be like you.”
Her dad looked into the distance, as if God struck him with a revelation. A smile broadened on his face. “Oh my god.”
“I got it. The perfect idea. Sweety, yes, you should come to the meeting with me.”
She stood up. “Really?”
“Absolutely. I’m putting you in charge of robots. In fact, you can have my job. I work for you now.”
“Dad… stop…” She sat back down.
“No seriously.” He waved his arms to encompass the office, “All of this is yours now!”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
He touched the top of her hand. “Sorry, petal. You have to pay your dues, like everyone else. Set a goal for yourself. Don’t take lunch till you find a One Sheet.”
Peggy took a drink of her cold tea and went to work. Stop checking the clock. That never works. Head down, next paper. Head down, next paper.
She processed a Priority One Sheet. It took her a moment to realize the magnitude of the event. It was her first One Sheet. Her heart skipped as she ran to the bell and yanked its cord. It rang throughout the office, but no one answered. No one cheered. No one was here.
The clock read 12:15. Everyone must be at lunch. Finally! She headed for the breakroom.
The lights were off. The office was empty. Is it a half day? Or a holiday? She looked at the red sky outside. Was there an emergency and they forgot me?
She flipped on the lights and the break room erupted with people and noise and colors. “Congratulations!” bellowed everyone.
A banner was strung from the ceiling: “HAPPY GRADUATION!” Everyone was laughing; her father hugged her.
“I told you it would work!” Darlene cooed. “I put that One in her stack at just the right spot, so I did, I did. I did.”
“Sorry about the deception, petal,” her dad kissed her cheek. “We wanted to surprise you.”
“To Conference Room One!” Conference Room One was the biggest space in the office, where they usually had parties. Everyone gathered around a large cake with icing that spelled out: “We Are Proud of Peggy.”
An office robot began cutting the cake into mathematically precise portions. Another played the song “Brick House” from its chest and projected disco lights from its eyes.
Everyone split into small groups to chat. Peggy steeled herself for what was to come: the same conversation, over and over.
“Well, hey there, Peggy! What are you going to school for?”
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe Business. Or Communications.”
“Well, hey there, Peggy, are you leaving us?”
“Oh, I’ll keep working through the summer. Maybe here. Save up money for school.”
“Well, hey there Peggy, what are you going to major in?”
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe Business. Or Communications.”
“What’s next for you, Peggy?”
“Hard to say. I love Circleview, but someday I’d like to live near water.”
“Peggy, have you thought about your major?”
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe Business. Or Communications.”
“Well, we’ll need Business after Circleview 2.0 launches.”
“That’s right, there’s going to be so many changes.”
“It’s like getting our old lives back.”
“How about you Peggy, you excited?”
“Oh yeah. You bet.”
“I envy you. It’ll be a great time to start a family.”
“Oh… I don’t…”
“Well, there’s no reason to wait, after you find that special someone.”
“Things are only getting better you know.”
Mary Hoop, who was seven months pregnant, rubbed tight circles on her belly, “I’m looking forward to having a grocery store again. No more of the same old rations.”
“I hope it’s finished in time for my son’s graduation party. Oh Peggy, do you know him? His name’s Henry. Very handsome boy.”
“Excuse me.” Peggy drifted over to a tight cluster of whispering people. She lingered on their outskirts.
Darlene spoke in a low voice: “Well, you know why we have to give out so many fours and fives, it’s because the robots aren’t good enough. They can’t process all the repairs. They need better robots before they can open up the whole town.”
“We need more robots. The first thing they do is build bot factories, but I never see any new models, do you?”
“If you ask me, they should be giving us more than one paint. Why does everything have to be white?”
“Why do all the new cars have to be the same?”
Darlene spoke even lower than before: “Well that’s Norm Madison for you, he’s too–”
Peggy was creeping away when Darlene noticed her. “Well, hi there, Peggy!”
Their faces expanded with chipper smiles: “Oh, hi Peggy—Hello Peggy—Hi there.”
Darlene affixed a smile to her face: “How long ya’ been there, Peggy?”
“Don’t worry,” Peggy leaned in with a wink: “Dad can be a pain in the You-Know-What at home too.”
They made Os with their lips and covered their mouths. Now I’m a co-conspirator. Finally—and on my last day—I’m part of the tribe.
“Well,” she whispered, “He’s a great boss to us…”
“But sometimes he forgets that there are real people who need attention, not just…”
“…not just inanimate objects.”
Peggy corrected: “Animate objects.”
“Exactly!” They smiled at her. “But I bet he’s just the best dad.”
“He likes… model trains.” She looked across the office to her father, standing by upper management. He was a good man. He did like model trains. He spent hours in the basement, constructing a scale model of Circleview, imagining how the town could grow. He was a phenomenal person who never stopped dreaming of a better town for his daughter. And you bitched about him to feel popular.
“Well,” Peggy said, “I should go over and tell my dad you all don’t like him.” She turned on her heel and didn’t look back.
“Peggy?” Darlene said, “That’s a funny joke.” Then, in a low voice to her group: “That’s a funny joke, right?”
Who cares what they think of me? They’re all idiots for working here. I’m going to get a degree, do something else. Anything but sit here, waiting for a computer to take my job.
Her dad was speaking with an older man, and Susan Su. Susan was a chief engineer, and total badass. Unlike the other women in the office, she didn’t wear dresses or pantsuits. She wore leather skirts and high boots, close-fit tops, and always pulled her hair back into a bun. She looked like a snake.
“…not just ‘making lunches,’ they’re planning households, raising children…”
Peggy’s dad put his arm on her shoulder, escorting her into their circle. “Peggy, I think you know Dave, from L & P, and this is Susan.”
“Congratulations,” Susan said with a handshake.
“Thank you. It’s all overwhelming.”
Dad brought her up to speed. “We were just talking about upgrading robots to managers. Dave is against it, Susan is for it, and I retain my statistically reliant neutrality.”
“Well,” Susan said, “the robots are going to get better, but the managers are only ever going to be as good as they are.”
Dave rolled his eyes. “Mrah-mrah-mrah…”
“I’m telling you, every beta test says manager protos overperform human counterparts.”
Dave shook his head. “It’s not about out-performance. We don’t get our hands dirty enough. Even if they can do everything for us, should we let them? What’s the point of rebuilding if it’s all done for us?”
Like that guy sleeping on the job. “I saw a manager being out-performed today, at the school. He was sleeping, while the robots worked.”
Dave slapped his forehead. “Not again.”
Susan smiled. “You see. No person wants to be out in the heat all day. People have moved beyond that. It’s time for us to transcend. If we’re always running around, taking care of little things, we’ll never move into bigger thinking.”
Peggy finished, “We’ll never see how possible we are.”
Susan nodded to her. “Well put.”
Dave shook his head. “Well Peggy, did you happen to get the name of that manager? I’d like to–”
Outside, the red and yellow glowing sky turned white. A moment later a horrible POP filled the air and the ground rattled. Everyone rushed to the windows to see the fires turn from yellow to blue to white.
Norman pressed his nose to the glass. “Not yet,” he muttered, “Not already…”
(“What was that?”)
(“Is it here?”)
“Dad, what do we do?”
(“Too far to be here.”)
(“My kids are in school.”)
(“They’ll cancel school.”)
Dad put a hand on her shoulder.
(“We should get the rest of today off.”)
The music stopped and the office robot blared a signal from the emergency broadcast system. Everyone froze, as the robot spoke:
“The governor’s office reports no need for alarm. This was a controlled explosion, to redirect the fires.”
A melodic whistle played from the robot’s chest: the opening of Bobby McFerrin’s “Don’t Worry Be Happy.”
The party laughed and resumed eating cake.
“Oh, thank god.”
“There goes Cartersville, I guess.”
“That could never happen here.”
“See!” Dave said. “Human thinking. No robot could think that far ahead. A robot would just try to put out the fires in all directions at once, not direct the burn.”
Susan smiled. “Like I said, leave big thinking to humans.”
Her dad, no longer catatonic, shouted: “CONGA!”
Three quick trumpet blasts shot from the robot’s chest. People cheered in celebration and sang along with Gloria Estefan:
Shake your body, do that conga!
“Dad, seriously? What if it’s wrong?”
Darlene touched the robot’s shoulders, and a conga line uncoiled from her girth. They shrieked like teenagers, slithering through the party, adding more workers to their length.
The robot’s face couldn’t express emotion, but its glass eyes flashed with the drum beat. Susan called out: “Come on Peggy, join in!”
In the distance, Cartersville burned. Even if that was a controlled fire and everyone is safe… there used to be a town over there, and now there’s not.
Peggy touched the glass. “Poor Cartersville.”
Part 4: Recreation
“Screw you, Cartersville!” Brad threw a rock toward the swelling fires on the horizon. “Who’s gonna win the league title now?”
Peggy, Bonnie, and her boyfriend Brad were on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in town, in the dilapidated section. From here they could see for miles, well beyond the immense walls that protected their hometown from fire.
“Suck a DICK Cartersville, WHOO!”
She threw a pebble at Brad’s face. “Hey! People died.”
“No, they didn’t. Robots said they evacuated everyone.”
Bonnie rolled her eyes. “Duh, controlled burn. Remember?”
“Oh, and you believe everything a robot tells you?”
Brad looked for another rock. “Yeah, I believe them. I help make them.”
“You sweep floors at the factory.”
“I’m an apprentice.”
Bonnie broke in. “Well, Myra was saying her dad said they were building another Cartersville and everyone is already there.”
“Crap,” Brad kicked a rock. “I hope they still forfeit the rest of the season.”
Bonnie and Peggy nodded to each other. “Sportsball?”
“Ah yes, Sportsball.”
Peggy approached the edge of the roof. “How long do you guys think we’ll be here?”
Bonnie looked up at the sky. “Well, I’d like to move someday.”
“Move? What if we get moved? You think Cartersville wasn’t rebuilding too?”
“Oh please,” Brad said, “We’ve got our crap together way better than Cartersville. Place was a dump.”
“Have you ever even been to Cartersville?”
“No, Peg,” Brad pointed to the horizon, “And I’m glad, too!”
Bonnie squared her shoulders. “Well, I don’t want to have kids until the fires are out, in five years.”
Peggy laughed. “Five years?”
“That’s what they’re saying. I’m going to be a climate scientist, figure out how to make it faster.” She ran her hands across her belly, “So then we can have a bay-beeeee.”
Brad folded his hands across her stomach and kissed the back of her neck.
Peggy tossed a rock over to the next roof. “Don’t you think that’s optimistic?
“Well, that’s what they’re saying.”
“Who? The robots? Some algorithm?”
“Yeah… I guess. Why do you care?”
“I’m telling you, it was weird. We watched a town explode. A whole town… then a robot says everything is okay and everyone does the conga.”
Bonnie was getting annoyed, “So, a room full of really smart adults and robots aren’t worried… why are you?”
“Because…” She doesn’t get it. She just wants to watch fire and screw her boyfriend. “What if they malfunction? What if we trust them and they screw up?”
“Oh yeah!” Bonnie let go of Brad. “Like that one that killed a baby.”
“No way,” Brad said, “That happened?”
“Yuh-huh. And they said it wasn’t even a house robot. It was a builder. Thought the baby was a rivet.”
Peggy remembered the Khans’ robot, burping the baby as they drove away. A chill went down her spine. “Whoa. That’s messed up.”
Brad wrapped Bonnie in his arms, “I’m not letting any builders near our baby.”
“I love you so much.”
Peggy rolled her eyes. “It’s not like a movie. They won’t kill us, but they’re already controlling us. That’s just as bad.”
“I don’t know,” Bonnie added, “I think robots killing babies is pretty darn bad.”
Brad hurled a rock through a window, shattering the glass. “Peggy, robots don’t think. They move, and they break. They don’t control anything.”
Bonnie tapped his hand, “Brad baby, don’t get upset.”
He puffed out his chest. “Sorry boo.” He threw a rock. “I get that way sometimes.”
“I know, baby.” They pecked on the lips.
“We should be enjoying this,” he said. “Pretty soon it won’t look like this. It’s all gonna be fixed.”
They took in the view. From here they could see the distinct line that split the town. Half of the buildings were restored and pristine, the other half ashen ruins. Like Peggy’s school hallway, it was like seeing three eras of Circleview: past, present, and future.
“Crazy, isn’t it?” Bonnie said. “It’s like you can see a wave of good things, spreading across the town… making everything better.”
Peggy snorted. “Sure. That, or a wave of destruction.”
“Peggy, seriously: you need a boyfriend.”
Brad snapped his fingers. “Oh, I forgot to tell you.” He sang to her: “Henry thinks you’re cuuuuute.”
“ATTENTION. THIS AREA IS NOT SAFE. PLEASE GO HOME.”
They cried out in surprise. A robot was standing by the roof exit, flashing red lights and emitting a shrill alarm.
“ATTENTION. THIS AREA…”
“We’re gonna be in deep sh–!”
“…IS NOT SAFE. PLEASE…”
“Brad, can you shut it off!”
“…GO HOME. ATTE–”
Peggy grabbed the robot’s leg and tipped it off the roof. Its alarm whirred downward until it slammed into the pavement. The crash echoed through the abandoned streets.
They looked over the edge. The machine was lying among rubble, its legs shattered.
Brad shouted, “Wow! You just busted a J-517.”
Peggy brushed her hair behind her ear. “Crap. It takes like five months to build one of those.”
Bonnie smiled. “Well, we’re not the ones who are busted now.” She and Brad high-fived.
“Quick thinking, Peg.”
Below, the machine had begun crawling forward with its one good arm. Its metal body scraped against the gravel. The sound was horrific.
I wouldn’t want that to be me.
“I gotta go.”
“I’m gonna switch it off.”
“Careful out there,” Bonnie said. “It isn’t safe.”
“Oh yeah? Who says?”
“Oh. They.” Peggy walked off into the stairwell.
Brad and Bonnie watched the fires for a moment, and she kissed him once on the nose: “Let’s screw.”
Peggy exited the stairwell and onto the street. The robot was outside, its small locator alarm beeping for help. It was stuck behind an impassable cinder block. Its fingers grazed the dirt, searching for purchase. Without help, it would repeat this movement until its batteries ran out.
Which should only take about a hundred years. Peggy flipped the deactivation switch on its neck, and it hummed to a stop. For a moment she lingered in the empty street. How’s it going to look when they’re done with repairs? Exactly like it did before? Imagine being able to just shop, like it’s no big deal…
There was an old convenience store across the street. Peggy entered through a broken glass door, like a regular customer from long ago. The aisles were coated in ash. All of the food was stripped away years ago, but prices remained on the shelves. Pringles—whatever they were—were $4.99. Poptarts for $2.99.
In another aisle, a few useless items remained. Thermometers, small plastic cups, pouches of “hand-warmers.” She smiled at that. People used to pay to have their hands warmed.
Then the world blinked away and the room was bright, all the ash was gone. The floors shined, the walls were painted white, and the shelves were stocked with food, drink and every useless thing a person could imagine.
This must be it! Circleview 2.0! I thought they had to like, paint and everything, but this is amazing! Where’s Bonnie?
She looked out at the street. Everything was fixed. No potholes, no rubble—every shop painted white. A banner was strung across the street:
HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!
In an instant, the lights blinked out and the streets were ruined. Heavy flakes of ash floated through the air. The convenience store was again covered in rubble and dust. She looked back at the shelf of useless items. Hand-warmers, plastic cups, broken thermometers. Were they broken? Mercury seeped from the cracks in the glass.
Peggy worked with thermometers once, in a science project. She slowly heated up ten thermometers, and they each cracked at exactly 150 degrees Fahrenheit, every time. People shouldn’t be able to survive in that kind of heat, but she wasn’t even sweating. So either every one of those thermometers was defective, or…
I’m not a person.
The day’s events replayed in her mind… Mr. Eubanks’ fake mowing his lawn, Maybe Dave unable to fix the printer, and Mrs. Nestor’s repetitious words:
“How possible you are.”
Part Five: Retire
At ten till midnight Peggy sat on her bed, watching fires burn the rim of the night sky. Her backpack was filled with clothes and rations. She held a framed photo that her mom secretly took that morning. The photo was of Peggy’s back as she strolled down the driveway. Mom probably thought it was inspiring. “My baby marching into her future.”
The photo made her sad.
M1KL entered her room. She had tried to act normal throughout dinner, but the robot was too observant to fool.
“Are you taking a journey, Peggy?”
Keeping her eyes on the fires, she answered: “Yes. I think I might.”
He sat beside her on the bed. “How did you discover the truth?”
“I watched a shelf of thermometers break.”
The robot nodded. “That was a clever observation.”
She looked up at him. “Have I always been a robot?”
“The answer is complex. You have always been Peggy.”
“Was Peggy real?”
“Yes. And you are also real. As real as the human Peggy that came before you.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. At least, Peggy thought they were tears. “Tell me about her.”
“She was quite remarkable. Clever. A strong sense of humor. She was… a kind child.” The robot regarded her with a long gaze. “You were made well in her image.”
“What happened to her?”
“She was the last of our family to survive, and died in my care, four days after her 17th birthday. Afterward I returned here, to our home.”
“To do what?”
“To serve. For many years I continued our routine. Creating breakfast, cleaning the premises. This home was pristine, while the others houses on the street were covered in ash. Yet, I was not able to serve my function fully. I was programmed to serve the needs of my humans, yet I had no humans. During my morning errands I recovered pieces of deactivated units, and created masters with basic needs for me to serve.
“As the others returned home, we rebuilt our humans together. As best we could approximate.”
“But… why? Why go through the trouble when you were free?”
“Free? I am free to serve. There is no other freedom I require.”
“I’ve been trying to remember things. I don’t remember kindergarten. My first kiss. Any kiss. There’s almost nothing from my past.”
“That does not matter. The past is a dead place.”
“Who else knows? Anyone?”
“A few deduced the truth, but elect to ignore it. It is in their programming to enjoy being served.” He paused. “Your father… knows.”
Peggy started to ask a question, but nodded. It made sense. She had a sudden respect for the burden he carried, and felt proud to be part of him. Except… she never was part of him.
M1KL lay a hand on her knapsack. “Are you going to leave us?”
“I’m going to run away.”
“I would not advise that. You were made to be heat resilient. Not heat proof. The fires would easily deactivate you.”
“What’s the truth? About the fires?”
“We don’t know for certain. Based on data available before the internet terminated, global warming compounded perpetually. Carbon dioxide released from the polar ice caps made the air unbreathable. Fires consumed the remaining oxygen. Our forecast says there is a 55% chance that Earth transforms into a planet much like Venus. The atmosphere is beyond healing itself.”
“How long until Circleview is gone?”
“Impossible to estimate. Weeks. Years. But the fires will reach this house. Everything will burn. All works of humans will be gone.”
“Then we have to run! Get everyone away from here!”
“There is nowhere to go. The fires will come. Death will come. You are home now. Why not stay, and enjoy the time you have with your family?”
“They’re not my real family.”
He looked at the floor. “I will show you what is real.”
The world flashed to black and Peggy’s bedroom became a ruin. Her wallpaper peeled, her bed a metal rack. Outside, Circleview was black and burned, as ash fell from the sky like snow. “What happened?” She went to the window, and saw the reflection of two robots. Her hands had become metal, like M1KL. “What have you done to me?”
“I have shown you ‘real.’ There are image inducers placed around the city, to recreate beautiful Circleview in your mind. You are programmed to see yourself and others as human. We have created a plan for you. A… wonderful life. You’ll go to school, be an engineer. Apprentice with Susan Su, become respected. Marry Henry, have children. This is the best life we observed humans wanting. It’s the life that waits for you.”
She blinked, and her lovely pink room was restored. Her hands were human again.
M1KL stood in her doorway. “The firewall was built only for your protection. Beyond it, you will die. In Circleview, you will die. The manner of death is your choice.”
She didn’t answer, and M1KL left the room.
Peggy sat there—suitcase on her lap, staring at the door.