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Guard and Assist
Beep.
[Light sensors indicate sunrise. Local time, seven hundred three hours. All quiet on the eastern front.]
A quiet stillness rests over the yard. Half-frozen precipitation still falls, and all forecasts indicate that there will be no sunshine this day.
Leaving its post, this unit ascends to the top of the Main Heap for the morning announcement. In a voice as loud and clear as ringing church bells, this unit shouts,
"ATTENTION, ALL UNITS. ATTENTION! IT IS MORNING. I HOPE YOU HAD AN EFFICIENT NIGHT OF CHARGING, BECAUSE IT IS GOING TO BE ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL JANUARY DAY."
This unit pauses, then adds, with as much pep and joviality as it can muster, "THIS HAS BEEN YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD S4-F3 UNIT. HAVE A LOVELY MORNING."
There is a great clanging noise as the nannybot in the next trash heap over attempts to power on, fails, falls, and begins to roll down the heap. This unit has long since learned that the nannybot is not a threat, and attempting to either assist or annihilate the robot is a massive waste of time and rockets.
It does not make sense as to why a nanny should be able to withstand the explosive power of a mighty security bot such as this unit, but it is not this unit's place to question such design measures.
Besides, it is five minutes past the hour, and that means the time is ripe for a security patrol. Stomping down the trash pile, this unit grabs its identification chip (as is standard protocol) and stomps out to begin its rounds.
Guard and assist. Guard and assist.
The nannybot is valiantly attempting to clamber back up to its seat, this unit notices with satisfaction--even though the persistent rain has made the rubble slippery and unfit to bear weight.
"Look at you go," this unit cheers in a motivating monotone. The nannybot slips and falls a few feet back down, but seems undeterred. This unit finds the nannybot's determined spirit to be inspiring, and quips, "Keep up the good work."
A few strides away, a number of first-generation security units sit in a ring around a battered shopping cart for their daily card game.
"Enjoying your chess, gentlebolts?" this unit asks in a perfectly civilized tone of voice (even though S4-F3s are produced by the absolute best robotics manufacturer in existence, and only a robot made by a foreign competitor would ever think about playing cards when there was work to be done).
A few of the bots beep nonchalantly in response, so this unit continues on its way. Or rather, it tries to.
No sooner does this unit attempt to stomp over to the FixIts is it charged by a rounded circle zooming across the trashy terrain.
"HALT" this unit commands, swiftly popping out its massive rockets. "IDENTIFY YOURSELF."
The circle stops, and begins to vibrate in distress. This unit detects a low, frequent beeping coming from the robot's mainframe.
An inquiry is in order. "Is everything alright, citizen? You seem upset."
A torrent of beeps, boops, and static burst from the small bot. This unit, quickly determining that the poor thing is attempting to speak in Morse code, immediately activates its interpreting software.
it has to work, has to! What would the engineers say? I have to clean it. I have to.
"Be calm, citizen." This unit extends the metaphorical hand of friendship by extending a literal hand of comfort. The bot does not appear to be calmed by the reassuring pat pat pat this unit provides. Perhaps verbal reinforcement is in order.
"There, there," this unit continues. "Now do tell; what troubles you on this fine day?"
Why do you ask? So you may mock me? The bot lets out a wavering boop. Perhaps you'd like to add me to your morning announcements? Go ahead, let everyone know that I can't keep a floor clean. Let them laugh. I deserve it. I'm a failure of a Janitron!
"So you are a cleaning unit," this unit clarifies. "I am beyond overjoyed to meet someone of such importance. You truly are the backbone of this junkyard."
The Janitron makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sniff. I'm the flimsiest backbone anyone could ever have. Look at this! I've vacuumed this same stretch of path for hours and it still looks terrible! It's only a matter of time before that section over there gets all messed up again.
This unit does not personally notice a difference in the cleanliness levels of their surroundings, but imagines it would be a good idea to keep this statement to itself. Instead, it chooses to approach the situation with optimism and a can-do attitude. Guard and assist.
"The junkyard may be a dirty place, but it's still a wonderful place to live! This unit feels fortunate beyond measure to guard it. A good attitude is better than any decoration scheme for making a trash pile a home, this unit thinks."
I'm sure it is, the Janitron says. But I simply cannot live anywhere happily if I cannot clean. How could I? How could I be content, knowing that I have failed in my one true purpose for existing?
"That is a tricky question," this unit admits, but the Janitron has begun to zoom around this unit in circles, beeping excitedly.
I have an idea! It slows down and turns to look at this unit. There must be something broken in me that is preventing me from effectively cleaning my surroundings. But outside the junkyard, surely there is someone who can fix me!
This unit processes the proposal with great caution. "This unit is uncertain, Janitron. The world beyond the junkyard is rife with danger and updated technology."
What are you afraid of? We live in a pile of trash.
"These units reside in a lovely pile of trash," this unit corrects. "And this unit has duties that require attending to."
I will personally find a substitute to guard in your place, if only you'll accompany me, the Janitron pleads. I cannot make the journey without assistance. I am too small to open doors, but too big to fit under them.
"You will probably be stepped on," this unit agrees.
A familiar clanging sound draws this unit's attention to a potential candidate for guard duty.
I'm so glad the nannybot agreed to take over your duties, Janitron chirps, as this unit stomps off toward the junkyard exit.
"It was most kind," this unit agrees. "But perhaps this chatter should be saved for after we pass the gatekeeper."
The Janitron drones quietly, likely awed by the intimidating form of the gatekeeper looming ahead.
Tall, agile, and with a large magnetic plate dangling below its beefy steel arm, the gatekeeper serves to keep potential scavengers from removing scrap metal from the yard. Now that this unit thinks about it, the gatekeeper might also be designed to keep discarded robots from leaving, too.
I am mostly made of plastic, the Janitron offers helpfully.
"This unit has no such luck," is the muttered reply.
No worries, S4, the Janitron beeps. I will distract the gatekeeper.
Before this unit can protest, the small cleaning bot has zoomed off towards the mighty machine, aggressively beeping the Carol of the Bells. An earth-shattering creaking indicates that the distraction has been noted. This unit stands, transfixed, as the gigantic magnet is heaved through the air, swinging straight for the tiny plastic floor-feeder.
[Personal Note: the Janitron is suicidal.]
This unit remembers it is supposed to be running, and so it takes off, its graceful, elegant gait undoubtedly a pleasure to the eyes. Light as a piece of unused bathroom tissue it floats, leaping through the trash towards the exit.
[Observation: the gates are shut.]
This fact is of no importance. This unit withdraws its rockets, aims, and deploys. The resulting boom is evidently sufficient to draw the gatekeeper's attention away from the Janitron, because the creaking of the great metal arm is suddenly uncomfortably close.
To this unit's undying shame, it shrieks a curse word as it runs flat-out for the exit, the Janitron close behind.
The final few steps feel funny; almost as though the ground isn't quite so clingy. This unit panics when it realizes that it is being pulled back and up, but after a few more steps the force is negligible.
We are free, the Janitron says happily. We are free and I will soon be fixed. Come, let us head for the nearest scrap of civilization.
S4-F3 bots do not experience fear. It is therefore odd that this unit finds itself unable to move forward any further.
"Janitron, friend, this unit finds itself somewhat stuck."
Are there more magnets? it asks. Do you need me to push you, perhaps?
"No, that is unnecessary," this unit assures it. "This unit believes it to be an issue of motivation. It has been quite a while since this unit operated outside the junkyard. It is possible that this unit does not have an accurate understanding of the current laws of society."
The Janitron ponders this for a moment. Surely they haven't changed that much. The foundation of any institution can only shift a small amount before cracking and collapsing.
"Maybe so, but as a security bot, this unit is expected to be in full compliance with the law at all times. Failure to comply with this expecta--"
I think you're scared of not being in the junkyard, the Janitron said flatly. You've lived the same routine every day for ages, and now you're scared that you won't be as good at your job, or your job won't ever be as satisfying. It gave an angry little beep. Well I hope you remember this feeling, S4. Because it's how I feel every day. Every day I wake up and hope that I will be a better cleaner than yesterday, but I never am. And I'm afraid that I will never enjoy cleaning as much as I did when I... When I lived with... It trailed off, voice thick with digitally-rendered emotion.
This unit feels as though applause is inappropriate for the situation, but it was a touching little speech. A compromise is reached with an understanding pat and a whispered, "Bravo, good friend. Right you are. Onward we shall go."
This unit does not feel fear. It is not intimidated by the velocity of the vehicles speeding down the street, nor by the buildings that seem to tower above the clouds, and this unit certainly isn't even the least bit self-conscious with such fully functioning, brand-spanking-new machinery rolling about.
Perhaps this unit should have had the FixIt mechanobots sand off some of the rust. The junkyard makes it easy to forget how shiny new robotics can be. Luckily, the shop this unit enters with the Janitron is filled with enough rust to assure this unit that they probably still remember how to repair bots like these.
It's been quite some time since the Janitron was taken back for its diagnostic, though, and this unit is beginningto worry to feel a small, entirely justifiable amount of friendly concern when it notices a diminutive round floor-sweeper dart down the street. Quickly tromping out of the repair shop, this unit charges after its friend.
"Wait up!"
The beeped response is too far and reaches this unit too fragmented to make any real sense. This unit is determined, though, and it figuratively holds on to its seatbelt as it thunders down the road in pursuit of the Janitron.
The soft, static-laden sound of sobbing eventually meets this unit's ears, and when it finally catches up to the Janitron--huddled in a small cranny between an apartment building and a river--the small bot does not resist as it is lifted from the ground and tucked snugly into this unit's grasp.
"Friend, whatever is the matter?" this unit asks, as gently as possible.
Distressed electrical cackling is the only response. This unit holds the Janitron patiently, and at last it is rewarded with a muffled beeping.
Could you put me down, please?
This unit does not think it is a good idea, but it obliges anyway. The Janitron begins to rumble across the pavement, just slowly enough that this unit is able to follow it.
So this unit does.
The January rain remains steady, and this unit supposes that it would be rather cold, had it any temperature receptors, but the Janitron pays the weather no mind, even when a frigid wind sweeps in from the north. The rain grows denser, falling faster and faster until the cleaner bot leaves little neat rows of tracks in its snow-powdered wake.
This unit follows.
The sky darkens, shadows slipping from the crevices of the cityscape to bleed across the sky in a starless blanket of night. This unit is uncertain as to whether the Janitron has night vision capabilities, but it has not slowed in its journey. Rather, it chugs right on along, oblivious to the onset of evening. (Oblivious, or in spite of? This unit does not know.)
This unit does not need to know. It only needs to follow.
At last, the Janitron stops. On a bridge near the fringes of the city, stretched high a plummeting gorge, it comes to a trembling, shuddering halt.
This unit notices that this location is very exposed. With the only escape routes at either end of the walkway, it could prove a terribly vulnerable spot indeed. Luckily, this unit does not believe that the gatekeeper would go to all the trouble of sending bot baggers after a floor sweeper and a rusted-out S4-F3.
This unit turns its attention to the Janitron. "Will you speak of what bothers you, good friend? Home is far away, and this unit hopes that you will not journey further still. This unit has followed you as much as it is able."
For a moment, the only sound is that of the icy wind shrieking through the gorge below.
At last, a few quiet beeps:
The mechanic couldn't find anything wrong.
This unit is confused. "Surely that is a good thing?"
The Janitron pumps out a puff of dust in exasperation. It should be a very good thing! A wonderful thing! I'm in tip-top shape, especially for a junkyard bot. But if there is nothing wrong with me, then why can't I clean?
This unit does not know. The S4-F3 is not a problem-solving model. It cannot heal wounds. It cannot build a house. It can only guard and assist.
This unit is not sure if it can assist in this situation. So it says nothing.
The Janitron lets out a solitary, forlorn boop. I suppose I'll never know. Maybe I'm just so broken they can't fix me. At least I know why my family got rid of me.
"They rid themselves of you?" This unit tries not to sound incredulous, but it is a futile effort.
Yes. One day, I was vacuuming up their floors, and the next I was being carted off to the dump site, and there was some other shiny Janitron in my docking station. It sighed. [i]I couldn't figure out why they would replace me at first, but after a few weeks in the junkyard, I figured it out. I'm a terrible cleaner. If nothing's wrong with me, maybe I always have been."
This unit thinks hard. This unit thinks as hard as it possibly can, harder than it's ever thought in its life. This unit thinks so hard that it's almost afraid that it's central processors will overheat, except it's cold so that probably won't be an issue.
Straining, this unit begins, "You only figured it out after being in the junkyard?"
The Janitron beeps miserably.
"But...then how did you not notice you were a terrible cleaner before?"
The house was probably just naturally cleaner. Or maybe they brought the new Janitron out while I was powered off and I just didn't notice.
Oh.
This unit thinks it understands.
"But junkyards are naturally dirtier than houses. You can't take the dirty off of a pile of trash any more...any more than you can take the need to clean out of a Janitron," this unit finishes (rather proudly, it should be noted).
The Janitron beeps softly as it mulls this new information over. So, you think I might not be a terrible cleaner?
"This unit finds it highly unlikely."
I suppose...I suppose that is good news, the Janitron begins hesitantly. But if that is the case, then I cannot go back to the junkyard. It is not the right place for me to live.
"No, it is not," this unit agrees.
So is this goodbye?
"Well..." This unit wishes it had a lip to chew to advertise the heavy thinking in progress. "The junkyard has a routine, and lovely junkyard robots. And this unit does enjoy making the morning announcements..."
A light on the Janitron blinks expectantly. This unit reaches out and pats it affectionately.
"But perhaps you were right. This unit does not think there is anything better out there because it has not tried to find it. The winter winds seem unbearable when your hearth is warm, yes?"
Probably. Maybe. I don't know, I don't have temperature sensors, the Janitron beeps. But for what it's worth, I think good company warms you just as well as a flame. I am made of plastic, though, and it is possible that my opinion is skewed.
"Perhaps a little," this unit agrees. "So where to next, friend?"
I was doing some thinking, and a farm seems like it would be a good option. Less dirty than a junkyard, but still filthy enough to pose a decent challenge. Farms have barns, though, and barns have heavy doors.
[Observation: This unit feels valued on an individual level.]
Something slips into place.
"Lead the way, then, and I will follow."
[Light sensors indicate sunrise. Local time, seven hundred three hours. All quiet on the eastern front.]
A quiet stillness rests over the yard. Half-frozen precipitation still falls, and all forecasts indicate that there will be no sunshine this day.
Leaving its post, this unit ascends to the top of the Main Heap for the morning announcement. In a voice as loud and clear as ringing church bells, this unit shouts,
"ATTENTION, ALL UNITS. ATTENTION! IT IS MORNING. I HOPE YOU HAD AN EFFICIENT NIGHT OF CHARGING, BECAUSE IT IS GOING TO BE ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL JANUARY DAY."
This unit pauses, then adds, with as much pep and joviality as it can muster, "THIS HAS BEEN YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD S4-F3 UNIT. HAVE A LOVELY MORNING."
There is a great clanging noise as the nannybot in the next trash heap over attempts to power on, fails, falls, and begins to roll down the heap. This unit has long since learned that the nannybot is not a threat, and attempting to either assist or annihilate the robot is a massive waste of time and rockets.
It does not make sense as to why a nanny should be able to withstand the explosive power of a mighty security bot such as this unit, but it is not this unit's place to question such design measures.
Besides, it is five minutes past the hour, and that means the time is ripe for a security patrol. Stomping down the trash pile, this unit grabs its identification chip (as is standard protocol) and stomps out to begin its rounds.
Guard and assist. Guard and assist.
The nannybot is valiantly attempting to clamber back up to its seat, this unit notices with satisfaction--even though the persistent rain has made the rubble slippery and unfit to bear weight.
"Look at you go," this unit cheers in a motivating monotone. The nannybot slips and falls a few feet back down, but seems undeterred. This unit finds the nannybot's determined spirit to be inspiring, and quips, "Keep up the good work."
A few strides away, a number of first-generation security units sit in a ring around a battered shopping cart for their daily card game.
"Enjoying your chess, gentlebolts?" this unit asks in a perfectly civilized tone of voice (even though S4-F3s are produced by the absolute best robotics manufacturer in existence, and only a robot made by a foreign competitor would ever think about playing cards when there was work to be done).
A few of the bots beep nonchalantly in response, so this unit continues on its way. Or rather, it tries to.
No sooner does this unit attempt to stomp over to the FixIts is it charged by a rounded circle zooming across the trashy terrain.
"HALT" this unit commands, swiftly popping out its massive rockets. "IDENTIFY YOURSELF."
The circle stops, and begins to vibrate in distress. This unit detects a low, frequent beeping coming from the robot's mainframe.
An inquiry is in order. "Is everything alright, citizen? You seem upset."
A torrent of beeps, boops, and static burst from the small bot. This unit, quickly determining that the poor thing is attempting to speak in Morse code, immediately activates its interpreting software.
it has to work, has to! What would the engineers say? I have to clean it. I have to.
"Be calm, citizen." This unit extends the metaphorical hand of friendship by extending a literal hand of comfort. The bot does not appear to be calmed by the reassuring pat pat pat this unit provides. Perhaps verbal reinforcement is in order.
"There, there," this unit continues. "Now do tell; what troubles you on this fine day?"
Why do you ask? So you may mock me? The bot lets out a wavering boop. Perhaps you'd like to add me to your morning announcements? Go ahead, let everyone know that I can't keep a floor clean. Let them laugh. I deserve it. I'm a failure of a Janitron!
"So you are a cleaning unit," this unit clarifies. "I am beyond overjoyed to meet someone of such importance. You truly are the backbone of this junkyard."
The Janitron makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sniff. I'm the flimsiest backbone anyone could ever have. Look at this! I've vacuumed this same stretch of path for hours and it still looks terrible! It's only a matter of time before that section over there gets all messed up again.
This unit does not personally notice a difference in the cleanliness levels of their surroundings, but imagines it would be a good idea to keep this statement to itself. Instead, it chooses to approach the situation with optimism and a can-do attitude. Guard and assist.
"The junkyard may be a dirty place, but it's still a wonderful place to live! This unit feels fortunate beyond measure to guard it. A good attitude is better than any decoration scheme for making a trash pile a home, this unit thinks."
I'm sure it is, the Janitron says. But I simply cannot live anywhere happily if I cannot clean. How could I? How could I be content, knowing that I have failed in my one true purpose for existing?
"That is a tricky question," this unit admits, but the Janitron has begun to zoom around this unit in circles, beeping excitedly.
I have an idea! It slows down and turns to look at this unit. There must be something broken in me that is preventing me from effectively cleaning my surroundings. But outside the junkyard, surely there is someone who can fix me!
This unit processes the proposal with great caution. "This unit is uncertain, Janitron. The world beyond the junkyard is rife with danger and updated technology."
What are you afraid of? We live in a pile of trash.
"These units reside in a lovely pile of trash," this unit corrects. "And this unit has duties that require attending to."
I will personally find a substitute to guard in your place, if only you'll accompany me, the Janitron pleads. I cannot make the journey without assistance. I am too small to open doors, but too big to fit under them.
"You will probably be stepped on," this unit agrees.
A familiar clanging sound draws this unit's attention to a potential candidate for guard duty.
I'm so glad the nannybot agreed to take over your duties, Janitron chirps, as this unit stomps off toward the junkyard exit.
"It was most kind," this unit agrees. "But perhaps this chatter should be saved for after we pass the gatekeeper."
The Janitron drones quietly, likely awed by the intimidating form of the gatekeeper looming ahead.
Tall, agile, and with a large magnetic plate dangling below its beefy steel arm, the gatekeeper serves to keep potential scavengers from removing scrap metal from the yard. Now that this unit thinks about it, the gatekeeper might also be designed to keep discarded robots from leaving, too.
I am mostly made of plastic, the Janitron offers helpfully.
"This unit has no such luck," is the muttered reply.
No worries, S4, the Janitron beeps. I will distract the gatekeeper.
Before this unit can protest, the small cleaning bot has zoomed off towards the mighty machine, aggressively beeping the Carol of the Bells. An earth-shattering creaking indicates that the distraction has been noted. This unit stands, transfixed, as the gigantic magnet is heaved through the air, swinging straight for the tiny plastic floor-feeder.
[Personal Note: the Janitron is suicidal.]
This unit remembers it is supposed to be running, and so it takes off, its graceful, elegant gait undoubtedly a pleasure to the eyes. Light as a piece of unused bathroom tissue it floats, leaping through the trash towards the exit.
[Observation: the gates are shut.]
This fact is of no importance. This unit withdraws its rockets, aims, and deploys. The resulting boom is evidently sufficient to draw the gatekeeper's attention away from the Janitron, because the creaking of the great metal arm is suddenly uncomfortably close.
To this unit's undying shame, it shrieks a curse word as it runs flat-out for the exit, the Janitron close behind.
The final few steps feel funny; almost as though the ground isn't quite so clingy. This unit panics when it realizes that it is being pulled back and up, but after a few more steps the force is negligible.
We are free, the Janitron says happily. We are free and I will soon be fixed. Come, let us head for the nearest scrap of civilization.
S4-F3 bots do not experience fear. It is therefore odd that this unit finds itself unable to move forward any further.
"Janitron, friend, this unit finds itself somewhat stuck."
Are there more magnets? it asks. Do you need me to push you, perhaps?
"No, that is unnecessary," this unit assures it. "This unit believes it to be an issue of motivation. It has been quite a while since this unit operated outside the junkyard. It is possible that this unit does not have an accurate understanding of the current laws of society."
The Janitron ponders this for a moment. Surely they haven't changed that much. The foundation of any institution can only shift a small amount before cracking and collapsing.
"Maybe so, but as a security bot, this unit is expected to be in full compliance with the law at all times. Failure to comply with this expecta--"
I think you're scared of not being in the junkyard, the Janitron said flatly. You've lived the same routine every day for ages, and now you're scared that you won't be as good at your job, or your job won't ever be as satisfying. It gave an angry little beep. Well I hope you remember this feeling, S4. Because it's how I feel every day. Every day I wake up and hope that I will be a better cleaner than yesterday, but I never am. And I'm afraid that I will never enjoy cleaning as much as I did when I... When I lived with... It trailed off, voice thick with digitally-rendered emotion.
This unit feels as though applause is inappropriate for the situation, but it was a touching little speech. A compromise is reached with an understanding pat and a whispered, "Bravo, good friend. Right you are. Onward we shall go."
This unit does not feel fear. It is not intimidated by the velocity of the vehicles speeding down the street, nor by the buildings that seem to tower above the clouds, and this unit certainly isn't even the least bit self-conscious with such fully functioning, brand-spanking-new machinery rolling about.
Perhaps this unit should have had the FixIt mechanobots sand off some of the rust. The junkyard makes it easy to forget how shiny new robotics can be. Luckily, the shop this unit enters with the Janitron is filled with enough rust to assure this unit that they probably still remember how to repair bots like these.
It's been quite some time since the Janitron was taken back for its diagnostic, though, and this unit is beginning
"Wait up!"
The beeped response is too far and reaches this unit too fragmented to make any real sense. This unit is determined, though, and it figuratively holds on to its seatbelt as it thunders down the road in pursuit of the Janitron.
The soft, static-laden sound of sobbing eventually meets this unit's ears, and when it finally catches up to the Janitron--huddled in a small cranny between an apartment building and a river--the small bot does not resist as it is lifted from the ground and tucked snugly into this unit's grasp.
"Friend, whatever is the matter?" this unit asks, as gently as possible.
Distressed electrical cackling is the only response. This unit holds the Janitron patiently, and at last it is rewarded with a muffled beeping.
Could you put me down, please?
This unit does not think it is a good idea, but it obliges anyway. The Janitron begins to rumble across the pavement, just slowly enough that this unit is able to follow it.
So this unit does.
The January rain remains steady, and this unit supposes that it would be rather cold, had it any temperature receptors, but the Janitron pays the weather no mind, even when a frigid wind sweeps in from the north. The rain grows denser, falling faster and faster until the cleaner bot leaves little neat rows of tracks in its snow-powdered wake.
This unit follows.
The sky darkens, shadows slipping from the crevices of the cityscape to bleed across the sky in a starless blanket of night. This unit is uncertain as to whether the Janitron has night vision capabilities, but it has not slowed in its journey. Rather, it chugs right on along, oblivious to the onset of evening. (Oblivious, or in spite of? This unit does not know.)
This unit does not need to know. It only needs to follow.
At last, the Janitron stops. On a bridge near the fringes of the city, stretched high a plummeting gorge, it comes to a trembling, shuddering halt.
This unit notices that this location is very exposed. With the only escape routes at either end of the walkway, it could prove a terribly vulnerable spot indeed. Luckily, this unit does not believe that the gatekeeper would go to all the trouble of sending bot baggers after a floor sweeper and a rusted-out S4-F3.
This unit turns its attention to the Janitron. "Will you speak of what bothers you, good friend? Home is far away, and this unit hopes that you will not journey further still. This unit has followed you as much as it is able."
For a moment, the only sound is that of the icy wind shrieking through the gorge below.
At last, a few quiet beeps:
The mechanic couldn't find anything wrong.
This unit is confused. "Surely that is a good thing?"
The Janitron pumps out a puff of dust in exasperation. It should be a very good thing! A wonderful thing! I'm in tip-top shape, especially for a junkyard bot. But if there is nothing wrong with me, then why can't I clean?
This unit does not know. The S4-F3 is not a problem-solving model. It cannot heal wounds. It cannot build a house. It can only guard and assist.
This unit is not sure if it can assist in this situation. So it says nothing.
The Janitron lets out a solitary, forlorn boop. I suppose I'll never know. Maybe I'm just so broken they can't fix me. At least I know why my family got rid of me.
"They rid themselves of you?" This unit tries not to sound incredulous, but it is a futile effort.
Yes. One day, I was vacuuming up their floors, and the next I was being carted off to the dump site, and there was some other shiny Janitron in my docking station. It sighed. [i]I couldn't figure out why they would replace me at first, but after a few weeks in the junkyard, I figured it out. I'm a terrible cleaner. If nothing's wrong with me, maybe I always have been."
This unit thinks hard. This unit thinks as hard as it possibly can, harder than it's ever thought in its life. This unit thinks so hard that it's almost afraid that it's central processors will overheat, except it's cold so that probably won't be an issue.
Straining, this unit begins, "You only figured it out after being in the junkyard?"
The Janitron beeps miserably.
"But...then how did you not notice you were a terrible cleaner before?"
The house was probably just naturally cleaner. Or maybe they brought the new Janitron out while I was powered off and I just didn't notice.
Oh.
This unit thinks it understands.
"But junkyards are naturally dirtier than houses. You can't take the dirty off of a pile of trash any more...any more than you can take the need to clean out of a Janitron," this unit finishes (rather proudly, it should be noted).
The Janitron beeps softly as it mulls this new information over. So, you think I might not be a terrible cleaner?
"This unit finds it highly unlikely."
I suppose...I suppose that is good news, the Janitron begins hesitantly. But if that is the case, then I cannot go back to the junkyard. It is not the right place for me to live.
"No, it is not," this unit agrees.
So is this goodbye?
"Well..." This unit wishes it had a lip to chew to advertise the heavy thinking in progress. "The junkyard has a routine, and lovely junkyard robots. And this unit does enjoy making the morning announcements..."
A light on the Janitron blinks expectantly. This unit reaches out and pats it affectionately.
"But perhaps you were right. This unit does not think there is anything better out there because it has not tried to find it. The winter winds seem unbearable when your hearth is warm, yes?"
Probably. Maybe. I don't know, I don't have temperature sensors, the Janitron beeps. But for what it's worth, I think good company warms you just as well as a flame. I am made of plastic, though, and it is possible that my opinion is skewed.
"Perhaps a little," this unit agrees. "So where to next, friend?"
I was doing some thinking, and a farm seems like it would be a good option. Less dirty than a junkyard, but still filthy enough to pose a decent challenge. Farms have barns, though, and barns have heavy doors.
[Observation: This unit feels valued on an individual level.]
Something slips into place.
"Lead the way, then, and I will follow."
‘Half-frozen precipitation still falls’ I’m not sure why this bugs me, but it does. Passive voice? Too wordy?
‘this unit’ Interesting character perspective.
Quibble with massive. Also, a nannybot surviving rockets? Ah, good. The next sentence goes there
Agreed with OP nannybot. Or the security bot is perhaps not as mighty as it thinks it is. Have we an unreliable narrator?
The ‘too small to open doors, but too big to fit under them’ bit was (unintentionally?) amusing.
The Janitron’s quest was confusing in one respect; I never got an objective sense of its ability to clean, so I couldn’t evaluate its statements and understand its mental state. I mean, I get that cleaning a junkyard could be a Sisyphean task, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t nuances. Was the stretch of path it had been working to clean a dirt path?
Even in a junkyard some things would presumably be cleanable, and there’s a difference between having too-high standards, just plain being broken, or trying to wash a mud puddle.
I’m presuming the guard bot initially accompanies him due to the ‘assistance’ part of its programming.
Huh. Apparently the missiles do work. Makes me wonder about the nannybot.
The world outside is interesting, but it feels like we only get impressions of it. Are there people?
Interesting conclusion; we finally get some clarity on the Janitron’s ability and circumstances.
I’ll admit I’m surprised a robot would make a warm hearth analogy
The stakes weren't high, but I found this to be a pleasant little story overall. Personalities were one of the high points of the story for me. The guard bot in particular had an enjoyable voice. On the other hand, I didn’t really get much of a sense of place. The body language wesn’t bad, but outside of that, details seemed rather sparse.
‘this unit’ Interesting character perspective.
Quibble with massive. Also, a nannybot surviving rockets? Ah, good. The next sentence goes there
Agreed with OP nannybot. Or the security bot is perhaps not as mighty as it thinks it is. Have we an unreliable narrator?
The ‘too small to open doors, but too big to fit under them’ bit was (unintentionally?) amusing.
The Janitron’s quest was confusing in one respect; I never got an objective sense of its ability to clean, so I couldn’t evaluate its statements and understand its mental state. I mean, I get that cleaning a junkyard could be a Sisyphean task, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t nuances. Was the stretch of path it had been working to clean a dirt path?
Even in a junkyard some things would presumably be cleanable, and there’s a difference between having too-high standards, just plain being broken, or trying to wash a mud puddle.
I’m presuming the guard bot initially accompanies him due to the ‘assistance’ part of its programming.
Huh. Apparently the missiles do work. Makes me wonder about the nannybot.
The world outside is interesting, but it feels like we only get impressions of it. Are there people?
Interesting conclusion; we finally get some clarity on the Janitron’s ability and circumstances.
I’ll admit I’m surprised a robot would make a warm hearth analogy
The stakes weren't high, but I found this to be a pleasant little story overall. Personalities were one of the high points of the story for me. The guard bot in particular had an enjoyable voice. On the other hand, I didn’t really get much of a sense of place. The body language wesn’t bad, but outside of that, details seemed rather sparse.
A robot Hanar and a roomba team up! They fight crime have an adventure!
I liked the personality of the robots, and I especially liked how all of Janitron's italic dialogue was in morse code. It gave a nice R2-D2 vibe every time I thought about how he was talking.
Fun piece! I liked it!
I liked the personality of the robots, and I especially liked how all of Janitron's italic dialogue was in morse code. It gave a nice R2-D2 vibe every time I thought about how he was talking.
Fun piece! I liked it!
This was a fun one. It feels like a children’s story, and I mean that as a compliment; kids stories are hard to pull off. I do think it moves a little fast, though. Some more verbiage about their journey from the junk yard to civilization, on the busy streets, and in the repair shop would help. Did anyone look at them? What was the repair shop worker like?
The main character’s voice was difficult to grasp. It’s clearly a robot but then it uses phrases like that one about church bells. It feels inconsistent, but I can’t be sure.
The main character’s voice was difficult to grasp. It’s clearly a robot but then it uses phrases like that one about church bells. It feels inconsistent, but I can’t be sure.
Guard and Assist — B+ — It really didn’t catch fire and drag me in, but it’s an interesting concept. Maintaining one’s stiff upper mandible when living in a junkyard is quite an accomplishment, as well as an epic journey out into the great unknown, and a reveal of a new purpose. Not a bad story, just a little confusing. I do like ‘this unit’ as a character.
I have trouble quantifying why the central relationship here didn't click for me. Maybe it's that guard-bot was surprisingly eager to leave his post, and that his overall ooh-shiny attitude made him feel kind of like an unreliable narrator IMO, but without enough background detail on the world to let me clearly see how his views might differ from the world around him. Maybe it's that the Roomba is kind of all-take and no-give in the relationship. I dunno.
I thought this was a good, solid story overall, but I would hope to see that relationship strengthened in subsequent drafts.
And even though I'm dumping on this a bit, it's probably going to be pretty high on my slate, due to the overall execution.
I thought this was a good, solid story overall, but I would hope to see that relationship strengthened in subsequent drafts.
And even though I'm dumping on this a bit, it's probably going to be pretty high on my slate, due to the overall execution.
This is a story that, while cute and interesting, doesn't seem to gel. The overall concept doesn't quite work for me, as the robotic-ness of things never really seems to click in an effective way. The janitor-bot feels too human (seriously, why program that level of emotion into it?), while the guard-bot, ironically, loses his emotional punch because he's programmed to be nice. I think something about the shape of the story needs to change to make it work super well, but I'm not quite sure what.
Still, I think this is an excellent core to continue working on. I was worried the robotic tone would drag, but it actually works quite well. Good job on that!
Still, I think this is an excellent core to continue working on. I was worried the robotic tone would drag, but it actually works quite well. Good job on that!
For some reason the narration here kept weirding me out. I think it was because everything was written as in first-person-present-tense, with the 'this unit' stuff, but my brain kept snapping into third-person because I kept reading 'this unit' as 'the unit' or something. I'm not really sure, but yeah. It was strange.
You might actually want to scale that back a bit. I feel like part of my confusion was if some parts were thoughts or narration? I realize the distinction is somewhat arbitrary in a piece like this, but… the uncertainty bugged me a little in places, even if it perhaps shouldn't have.
While your arc here is fairly well developed and covers the entire story, it seems a little… lumpy? The nannybot, for instance, gets a callback when they leave, but despite drawing extra attention, it doesn't seem to do much for the plot. The bit where they're wandering seems to use too many words without saying enough; I'm not really sure what you were getting at with that.
The bit where the cleaner runs out of the shop; I had no idea what was going on there, because I didn't realize they had already gone in and someone was trying to fix him or what. I thought they had just seen a shop and he scrammed.
The 'feels personally valued' bit is good, but I'd have liked some hint of this being a problem for the guardbot earlier. Maybe when he's still in the junkyard? Or when they escape the crane? I dunno, but as it is, it seemed to be a little too impromptu.
Overall, this was a pretty cute character piece, and had some clever lines in it. It develops a whole story arc across the entire narrative, which is great. Good work overall, if a bit un-even with managing the reader's attention.
You might actually want to scale that back a bit. I feel like part of my confusion was if some parts were thoughts or narration? I realize the distinction is somewhat arbitrary in a piece like this, but… the uncertainty bugged me a little in places, even if it perhaps shouldn't have.
While your arc here is fairly well developed and covers the entire story, it seems a little… lumpy? The nannybot, for instance, gets a callback when they leave, but despite drawing extra attention, it doesn't seem to do much for the plot. The bit where they're wandering seems to use too many words without saying enough; I'm not really sure what you were getting at with that.
The bit where the cleaner runs out of the shop; I had no idea what was going on there, because I didn't realize they had already gone in and someone was trying to fix him or what. I thought they had just seen a shop and he scrammed.
The 'feels personally valued' bit is good, but I'd have liked some hint of this being a problem for the guardbot earlier. Maybe when he's still in the junkyard? Or when they escape the crane? I dunno, but as it is, it seemed to be a little too impromptu.
Overall, this was a pretty cute character piece, and had some clever lines in it. It develops a whole story arc across the entire narrative, which is great. Good work overall, if a bit un-even with managing the reader's attention.
I think what I appreciate the most about this story is its commitment to its specific voice. The security bot always refers to itself in the third person, and the story makes sure to keep any acknowledgements to that perspective. I also enjoyed how there wasn't really any real 'danger' in this story; it was more just a quiet journey with little robots. Aside from a few explosions, the story was relatively subdued, and that was certainly interesting to see. The characters, while a bit prototypical, did have a good camaraderie and I was at least interested to see where they ended up.
The issue with this story is that the premise, while creative, has a few too many logical holes. For instance, why are some of the robots still activated? If they're supposed to be decommissioned, why weren't they broken down for spare parts, or at the very least turned off? The security bot has functional weapons, for heaven's sake; it's highly unlikely that any future society would just dump that in a scrap yard without any further action. Also, how did neither the security bot or rhoomba bot not figure out that trying to clean a scrap yard is an impossible task? Given how much they're able to discern by themselves, couldn't they just have figured that out by themselves? I know this is picky, but if you're going to do a story with beings who function by logic, there has to be some pretty strong logic in place to justify the rest of the story.
A committed story, but one that needs a bit more patching in terms of plot.
The issue with this story is that the premise, while creative, has a few too many logical holes. For instance, why are some of the robots still activated? If they're supposed to be decommissioned, why weren't they broken down for spare parts, or at the very least turned off? The security bot has functional weapons, for heaven's sake; it's highly unlikely that any future society would just dump that in a scrap yard without any further action. Also, how did neither the security bot or rhoomba bot not figure out that trying to clean a scrap yard is an impossible task? Given how much they're able to discern by themselves, couldn't they just have figured that out by themselves? I know this is picky, but if you're going to do a story with beings who function by logic, there has to be some pretty strong logic in place to justify the rest of the story.
A committed story, but one that needs a bit more patching in terms of plot.