Automation Era: The Battlefield

[1] initiation

[1] initiation

My sister was locked into a chair behind the metallic sliding doors that were 2.859 meters in front of me.

I'd spent my time estimating the distance, getting lost in numbers, trying desperately to distract myself, to take my mind off reality. Except I couldn't do that. Especially not when I knew exactly what the bots were about to do to me.

Any second now and they'd escort me inside too. I'd join her. I'd sit still and wait for them to chuck a needle in my neck and then the world would end and start again. The Trial.

I could tell you about my racing heartbeats and the nausea creeping up my throat, and you'd easily tell that I was terrified as shit. But as I waited here, sitting on a three-seater bench with my robot mom and dad at either sides, I realized something-my robot mom was holding my hand and I was holding it back. Reciprocating. Fingers curved around her cold metallic palm with a drowning person's desperation. That was when I knew how scared I was; I'd never have done something like that until now.

My sister, Scarlett, had always told me I shouldn't expect comfort from our bot parents. They were the third class of robots and, much like the rest-except the fourth class-had no emotions. No real love. Just programmed to take care of us and keep us alive. Programmed to pretend they loved us. Sometimes this idea hurt.

Something beeped. I snapped my head up, stared straight at the sliding doors. They parted just enough for Techno, another third class robot, to come in, then they closed behind him. He looked at me with his palm held in my direction. "Jake," he said, "your turn."

The moment I rose to my feet, the universe spun in my eyes. I walked towards Techno, and maybe it was the quake in my knees or the racing pulse at my neck, but I didn't find it in me to turn back to my bot parents. No goodbye, no hug. Nothing. It would be just a semblance anyway.

Techno stood with his polished arms rigid at either sides of his metallic humanoid body. His white pupils shifted and turned; he was analyzing. Processing. "You're hiding your dart in your pocket," he said. "Hand it over."

"I-"

"Now."

Well, I'd tried my chance. This dart was golden; I'd never missed the bullseye with it. Ever. So I just...liked always keeping it in my pocket. Any other day I would've been a stubborn idiot, tried to negotiate, then gotten myself punished. The usual. But today the synthesized edge in Techno's electronic voice was sharper than ever. Today there was something much more important than my weird attachment to a dart.

So I gave it to Techno, my eyes downcast.

He nodded. Then he stepped behind me, caught my arms, and maneuvered me a little to the left until I was standing directly opposite the iris scanner attached to the door. With one finger, he angled my chin upwards. Now my eye was perfectly aligned with the scanner; a thread-thin red lazer burned into it and just about blinded me. Couple silent seconds. The lazer turned into green. It beeped. The doors parted an inch, releasing a low whistle, then opened all the way through.

Techno's frigid palm pressed onto my back. Sighing shakily, I crossed the room's threshold. Scarlett came into view, locked into the chair like I'd imagined. Her gaze caught mine. For a moment, her clenched hands relaxed and her brown eyes softened. I tried to smile, but I couldn't.