A Glitch in the System

I fell to the floor immediately at the command, my robotic body lying flat on the unforgiving, hard surface of the ground. Even with a memory of voices that I was programmed to recognize upon hearing them, I did not know the voice that had shouted the command at me, which led me to believe that perhaps, though it was highly unlikely, that we were undergoing an uprising. Never before had an uprising occurred, because people of our kind were not created to last long anyways, and if we did last longer than planned, we were immediately taken apart and our body parts were recycled to make new robotic human beings just like the rest of us. We simply did not have time to rebel against our creators, and that was the plan. It was a never ending cycle, but it was all I had ever known. Though, I was a fairly new robot, since I had only been created days before.
I wonder whose body parts I am created out of. Sometimes, I question the reason as to why I was created instead of another robotic human being. Our creators could have pieced together a work of true art, something fit for power, but they specifically aimed for me. However I saw it, though, I would never be important enough to be kept around longer than the short days that the creators kept us assembled for. Everyone in this world was cruelly taken apart and recycled, no matter who they were.

The cycle was routine.

Glancing to my left, I made sure that Antony was still rummaging around in the clothing store, to make sure that he was still safe. Fortunately, he was finally caught up in clothing of his proper size, and I was thankful that he was not outside the building with me to witness whatever this was. Antony would surely be frightened, and that would only fare less fortunate for us. Robots like us were supposed to be prone to weak emotions, like fear and love. Those emotions tore down your strength, and therefore, the administrators that created us would not allow it.

However, Antony beat the system, in some way. He had never uttered the phrase, ‘I love you,’ but he said ‘I’m scared,’ as if it were his motto. Technically speaking, it was illegal to be afraid of something, and if a robot ever caught word of another robot saying that they were scared, they were supposed to report them. Reporting them, though, would only lead to the recycle of Antony, and since Antony was my very best friend, I would not—could not—allow that to happen to him just yet.

I knew, in a way, that Antony would not be too sad about being recycled, because he would finally, maybe, be reunited with Jimar, but it was selfish, the way I wanted to keep him around. Antony was my rock, and without him, I would be lost in Harloquia—technically speaking, of course. Without Antony, I would be friendless and lonely, just rusting away until my due date arrived, and I was recycled into another robot that was not me.

I was vaguely aware of harsh, robotic footsteps closing in near my ear, and then the unknown voice spoke again, demanding and rough; “Stand up with your arms behind your back.” Hesitantly, I followed the instructions I was given, though placing my arms behind my back hurt just a bit, and the hinges of my elbows creaked as I did so.

Though it was probably not my smartest idea, I quietly demanded, “Tell me who you are.” I was taking my chances on whether or not it was one of the creators, but I did not find it within myself to care. If they could be rude and bossy, then so could I, even though it was illegal for rebellion.

“Silence!” the voice shouted, and I wondered if anyone in the store had heard. One quick glance out of the corner of my eye alerted me that, no, no one had heard. Somehow, I was thankful for that. “We do not follow your commands. You are not our leader.”

“We?” I questioned, looking up at the robot that held the voice, for the first time. The robot was rusty, which I had never seen before. He had outgrown black hair that contrasted against the soft blue of his eyes.

The other figure, which I noticed hiding behind the first, was quite a lot shorter, with blonde hair that was cut short, and brown eyes.

“Yes, we. And now: you, too.” I was confused at what they were implying. Would I be coming with them, and where, exactly, would we be going? Needless to say, I was not the adventurous type.

Adventures and escapes were illegal, more illegal than anything I had ever dared to do in my entire life.

“What do you mean?” I ask tentatively, not entirely sure that I wanted to hear the answer. They stared at me with faces blank as paper, as if surveying me.

Then they answered gruffly, “You’re coming with us, to the land of rebellion.”

Well, I guess you can’t argue with that.