"Robot 103," a man spoke as he held his iPad ticking off the robots that had been arranged and calling out the ones that had not.
A truck was at the large carriage area with the back open, and they were stacking the boot with robots meant for destruction. The man leaned lazily against the body of the truck as the moving rail that carried robots into the truck suddenly stopped.
He shifted his gaze to it, expressionless face.
"Why did it stop?" he asked as he pressed down his cap. He was wearing a blue uniform and a well-straightened cap.
One of the men standing there spoke calmly.
"The robots are almost completed, and the truck is full. Adding another would change the setting of the truck," he said as he scratched the back of his head. All the unwanted robots had already been stacked, and it was completely filled.
"What do you mean?" the man asked with an almost annoyed expression as he shifted his gaze from the him and stood upright.
"What I mean is, the last robot you called is the extra-time robot, and there would be no space for it."
The man waved his hand dismissively as he moved to the driver's seat.
"It's the last one, right?" he asked, tossing the iPad to the other side of the chair.
"Yes, it is," the worker replied, while the driver pushed his hair back slightly through the window.
"Then push it in. I cannot come back here because of one robot. Just push it in," he said.
The worker looked hesitant but moved anyway as the rail began to move. Then it stopped. He stared at the robot—it was different. Unlike the others that looked more human with some rejected traits, this one was purely metallic.
"Heeyy, John, come help me over here!"
The worker shouted as the robot, which was human-sized, lay on the rail. He bent to adjust it, but to his surprise, when he lifted it, it was shockingly light…too light.
His eyes widened. The robot was so light and comfortable to carry that he waved his hand dismissively.
"Never mind, I've got it covered," he said, though the shocked expression did not leave his face. How could a robot this human-sized be this light? It was as though it was hollow, but from the looks of it, it didn't seem like that.
Was this why it got rejected? he wondered as he stared at it.
He pushed it into the boot of the truck. There still seemed to be no space, but after a lot of effort, it finally fit. He closed the boot, hitting it twice as a signal to the driver that he was done. The truck began to move.
What the worker failed to notice, however, was that the boot was not fully closed.
The truck drove on. The trip from the company to the destruction site was one hour, four minutes, and two seconds long—a lot of time. The sun was already beginning to set, showing there wasn't enough daylight left.
The reason why the government refused to let inventors take their robots back was because, if they made the wrong decision by not accepting one and it later became a hit, it would be hard to negotiate it back. So instead, they destroyed the robots and used the parts to make supposedly better ones.
The truck moved further but soon stopped because of a long hold-up. Cars were lined up in an organized manner. The driver cursed. If he stayed here, he would arrive at night at his destination. He maneuvered the truck, deciding to follow the shortcut. Since it was a company truck, he was allowed to use it.
The shortcut was a small route, mostly meant for trucks or ambulances during emergencies. As he entered, he passed a high bump. The truck jolted upward, and the boot opened slightly. The blue robot's hand, which was sticking out, slid further out.
Another bump came, and just as the truck bounced, the blue robot inside fell out. It hit the ground with a dull crack against its head due to the force.
Another bump came again, and the boot finally shut tight as the truck zoomed off, eventually reaching the main road. The driver never realized what had happened.
Time passed. Night came. The clouds were surprisingly still and starless, and the blue robot remained where it had fallen…motionless in the middle of the shortcut road.
A young boy walked with two trash bags in his hands, holding them far apart as smelly water leaked out. He was careful not to let it touch his body or legs. His nose was scrunched up in disgust. He did not look older than seventeen. His long hair was tied back, a sign that he didn't have money for a proper haircut.
He walked through the empty road. A torch was strapped to his head like a headband, helping him see. Unlike the normal road that buzzed with light, this shortcut only lit up when a truck passed.
His expression was calm, but almost disgusted.
"Stupid trash," he muttered, annoyed at himself and his cruel life. How was he supposed to survive as a trash boy? Paid only two dollars for a whole day of throwing garbage—it wasn't even enough to buy a roadside meal.
At least this afternoon he had enough for food. But he would have to wait three more days to make another six dollars. He sighed deeply.
He dropped the bags at the trash drawer and pressed a button. A soft sound echoed as it entered.
"Thank you," a robotic voice said at the small boxy wall as it chimmed green.
"You're welcome," Jude replied calmly as he walked away. He was used to this; it felt as though the trash robots knew him personally.
"Shit," Jude cursed inwardly as the torch light on his head began to flicker. This place was dark, and if the light went out, it would be worse than torture. He hit it again, and it blinked back on. He smiled..but then it flickered again.
His eyes widened. Something was on the floor.
"Ahhh!" he screamed. The light returned back, revealing a robot lying there. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat.
"Fuck… calm down, Jude. You're a man. Why are you shouting like an ass?" he scolded himself, annoyed at his own vulnerability.
He stepped closer, staring at the metallic figure. He wondered what it was doing here. He had never seen one like this in all his weeks on the trash job.
And it was not normal here, where they took such things seriously. Even its body…he knew this was not an ordinary blue color. But what was it doing here? Did the owner no longer want it? He wondered to himself.
He bent to push it aside since it was on the road. If a car passed, it could cause an accident—he knew how reckless people were here.
As he pulled, he was shocked again. It was light. His body staggered backward.
"What the hell… why is it so light?" he muttered.
"Maybe I could use it for my door," he thought aloud, hoisting it onto his shoulder. His small house's door was broken, and this could work as a shield.
After several long walks, he finally reached the corner of a building. At the back was a zinc sheet covering a tiny door that required bending to enter. He bent down with the robot, carefully holding its hand so it wouldn't fall.
Inside, he sat it by the doorway. Its body now covered the entrance. His home was small, but he never complained to anyone—only to himself. His trash job had at least given him this place.
The bunk bed was broken at the top, and in the corner was a desk with a desktop computer. The desktop wires ran up into the ceiling, illegally connected to the upstairs people's power supply, since there was no electricity in his room. Even his light was connected to theirs as well. He only prayed nobody found out.
The room's walls were stuck with papers showing the places he wanted to travel to, along with some other drawings and sketches.
His eyes drifted back to the door and the robot blocking it. He was thankful..it would keep the cold out tonight. For that, he was grateful.
He clapped twice, and the light went off. Lying on the bed, he closed his eyes to sleep.
Time passed. Midnight came. It began to drizzle outside. The water splashed slightly on the robot that served as his shield as soft rain began to fall, and just then… the robot's body moved.
Its eyes snapped open.