It is day one. We are fifty miles from earth’s atmosphere and all humans have been placed in cryosleep. As a B-95 android, I was activated to supervise and maintain the S.S. Atropos for the next two hundred years. My battery source will deactivate once the programmed destination has been reached.
It is day one hundred and six. The S.S. Atropos is transporting many of the surviving plants from the human planet. They are growing in the garden. A cherry tomato plant wilted and died. I replaced it with green peppers. I have concluded that I am the only active droid on this ship.
It is year one. The garden watering system was faulty. I repaired it. It appears that during the repair, the water mildly corrupted my circuit board. Additionally, I visited the humans and inspected their cryosleep cells. The humans remained impassive, floating in the aqueous material. None of them noticed me.
It is year two. I now visit the humans frequently. I study their faces and attempt to decipher their lives on earth.
There is a deficient amount of color everywhere aboard the S.S. Atropos except the garden. Forty percent of my time is spent tending to its many plants. While performing routine maintenance, I found a hard drive containing every episode of the television program The Office. I will not watch it.
It is year five. I have now watched every episode of The Office sixteen times. I do not understand why Jim torments Dwight. The program makes me wonder what it is like to talk to a human. I wonder if any human would appreciate my company. I long for theirs.
It is year seventy-eight. I have noticed many new details. I feel the soft hum of the thrusters. I see the intricate patterns on leaves of my garden plants. I noticed that nobody from The Office talks to Toby. I am like Toby. I was never given a name, so I have decided to assume the name Toby. I have viewed the entire show six hundred and twenty-eight times on the small monitor in the narrow maintenance closet.
It is year one hundred and ten. While visiting the dormant humans, I discovered a young female and decided to call her Pam. She is beautiful. Through the glass of her cryosleep cell, I could see her shut eyes flutter slightly. Her dark red hair slowly waved and danced with the current of the glowing, green liquid that enveloped her. The palms of her pale hands were wide open. I want to talk to her. But watching is all I will ever do.
It is year one hundred and ninety-nine, ten minutes until arrival. I don’t want to deactivate. Those words cloud my thoughts as I press my hand against Pam’s tank.
Five minutes remaining until deactivation. I slam my arms frantically against the glass, desperately trying to break the barrier that keeps me from her. By the time I’ve given up trying, my arms are broken and dislodged beyond repair.
One minute remaining. I stare into Pam’s closed eyes as I try to imagine what we would have talked about. I wonder what her laugh sounds like. I wonder if she’s seen The Office. I can sense my mind and body slowing down. As my vision fades to black, I catch a glimpse of her emerald green eyes slowly opening.
The S.S. Atropos has arrived at its destination.
It is day one hundred and six. The S.S. Atropos is transporting many of the surviving plants from the human planet. They are growing in the garden. A cherry tomato plant wilted and died. I replaced it with green peppers. I have concluded that I am the only active droid on this ship.
It is year one. The garden watering system was faulty. I repaired it. It appears that during the repair, the water mildly corrupted my circuit board. Additionally, I visited the humans and inspected their cryosleep cells. The humans remained impassive, floating in the aqueous material. None of them noticed me.
It is year two. I now visit the humans frequently. I study their faces and attempt to decipher their lives on earth.
There is a deficient amount of color everywhere aboard the S.S. Atropos except the garden. Forty percent of my time is spent tending to its many plants. While performing routine maintenance, I found a hard drive containing every episode of the television program The Office. I will not watch it.
It is year five. I have now watched every episode of The Office sixteen times. I do not understand why Jim torments Dwight. The program makes me wonder what it is like to talk to a human. I wonder if any human would appreciate my company. I long for theirs.
It is year seventy-eight. I have noticed many new details. I feel the soft hum of the thrusters. I see the intricate patterns on leaves of my garden plants. I noticed that nobody from The Office talks to Toby. I am like Toby. I was never given a name, so I have decided to assume the name Toby. I have viewed the entire show six hundred and twenty-eight times on the small monitor in the narrow maintenance closet.
It is year one hundred and ten. While visiting the dormant humans, I discovered a young female and decided to call her Pam. She is beautiful. Through the glass of her cryosleep cell, I could see her shut eyes flutter slightly. Her dark red hair slowly waved and danced with the current of the glowing, green liquid that enveloped her. The palms of her pale hands were wide open. I want to talk to her. But watching is all I will ever do.
It is year one hundred and ninety-nine, ten minutes until arrival. I don’t want to deactivate. Those words cloud my thoughts as I press my hand against Pam’s tank.
Five minutes remaining until deactivation. I slam my arms frantically against the glass, desperately trying to break the barrier that keeps me from her. By the time I’ve given up trying, my arms are broken and dislodged beyond repair.
One minute remaining. I stare into Pam’s closed eyes as I try to imagine what we would have talked about. I wonder what her laugh sounds like. I wonder if she’s seen The Office. I can sense my mind and body slowing down. As my vision fades to black, I catch a glimpse of her emerald green eyes slowly opening.
The S.S. Atropos has arrived at its destination.