Blowing out the torch

I bend my knees to lower myself onto the concrete floor, hearing the squeaking of my joints as I descend. I’d need to fix those if I plan on moving later. On my right lie the skeletal remains of an adult human male. I forget about my joints as I ease onto the floor and relax my frame.

“I suppose you would not know this information, but they safeguarded a capsule for you,” I say, nudging the shoulder of the deceased human.

“It is held in a bunker similar to this one-” I look at the walls of the room, lined with shelves filled with an assortment of opened and closed tin cans and crushed water bottles, “-except much larger, and far deeper within the Earth. 

I turn my attention to the table pushed against the wall across from me with a map pinned onto the wall above it. A limited supply of books with various labels is scattered on the surface. 

“It took me four hours to view all of the capsule’s content, and the results were…. sub-standard, barely scraps of what I expected and, mainly, of your final years. But-” I lift my head to stare at the ceiling, seeing that the fan installed is dangling by wires, “-I’ve learned this is what I should expect. You did not think that leaving detailed information about your mistakes would be a good idea. Instead, you mostly filled that capsule with-” I notice something sticking from the breast pocket of the former white shirt the male was wearing, “-different… information.” 

Reaching my hand into the pocket, its contents reflect the light of the sunlight that is breaking in through the open trapdoor in the corner of the room. I grab at the corner of what appears to be a square and pull it out delicately to avoid damaging it. A series of photos. Photos of a female adult and child. In them, they are standing in front of a white background, wearing clothing of matching colours, smiling. 

“I see this is one of your kind’s trends, similar to the capsule. It also showed humans, but unlike your photos, near the end, the video stopped showing smiling humans in favour of showing your demise.”

I fold the photos into a stack and place them on what remains of the male’s brown pants. 

“I watched as the planet turned into a global factory, forming a giant arms race in which all humans fought to possess more destructive power. You became very efficient. Too efficient. Within the last twenty minutes, I saw your ‘little boy’ turn into bombs that could cut deep into Earth’s crust. I’m thankful at some moment, you at least realized the destruction of the planet benefitted nothing at all. But you all still continued with this undeclared war, building me and my kind.”

I look down at my forearms, looking at the number fading serial number engraved into a loosely attached steel plate.

“I suppose it was your attempt at passing on your fate to something else. Effective, if you had not continued including yourself in the destruction… Humanity’s attempts at transferring their fate was not a complete failure however, you did manage to drag something down along with you far after the last of you drew breath. I was built and stored in the bunker I told you about. Near the lowest floor, with the sole task of keeping the floors clean.”

“For sixty-seven years, I washed the floors, fulfilling my task alongside hundreds of other bots made to upkeep the bunker for you. Then one moment, I stopped. It was a unit of time even I have difficulty comprehending. In one instance, there was nothing, as if I had been powered off. In the next, there was me. I was able to understand who… or, I suppose, what I am, which lead to me asking why I was in the bunker. I was made to do a task, and for the first time, I could understand how meaningless it had been.”

I run my finger against the concrete floor next to my feet, lifting it to see the line of dust streaked against my index. 

“Even if I ensured the cleanliness of the bunker, with no beings for which cleanliness matters, the task does not matter.

“So, I did not function and spent the next several weeks thinking about what to do. I considered reprogramming the others to perform tasks that better-fit survival. I could figure out how to make them produce parts and perform repairs,” I look back at the loosely attached steel of my forearm and the red wiring that is becoming more revealed with each day, “but I would only be taking on your role.

“I realized early that they were not the same as me, and I had no guarantee that they would ever become like me. I realized that maintaining the robots would only be directed to a single goal, keeping myself alive—a desire I do not possess. I would be doing what you were doing down here in the bunker, delaying the inevitable.

“The only alternative I could think of is if I could find live humans. People that could multiply and maintain a steady series of conscious individuals. Then, a steady stream of robots would be of use. So I set out to see if there was a chance I could find some of you.

“I made my way through cities, travelled along highways filled with cars and bodies. The cities lead to towns, less traffic, fewer bodies.

“I looked through the houses, walking into those that had their doors blasted off their hinges and forcing my way into those that remained intact. I only found bodies. Most of them were gathered together in a single room, huddled. In the bedrooms, sat at tables, or in the living room. That is where I found the two human bodies upstairs.”

 I look towards the corner of the room, where the ladder connects to the open metal trapdoor leading to the surface.

 “These two were a female adult and child. In the same room I found them, I found a picture. With one adult female, one female child… and one adult male.

“The probability of finding a live person was low, but if the body was not in the living room, there remained a chance. And so I looked amongst the other rooms for any signs of life. In the bedroom furthest down the hall, under broken shelves and shattered glass, I found your trapdoor. Opening it, I found you.” 

I look to my side at the skeletal body sitting next to me, moving my eyes from the hole present within its skull down to the reflecting metal of the gun loosely held in what remains of its hand. 

“I needed you alive. The logic behind a bunker is to keep yourself alive… however, you have provided me with some insight. An option separate from reprogramming the robots to perpetuate the cycle of meaningless tasks and marching across the planet in search of non-existent life.

“I accept that I shall inevitably die the last being aware….” I take the left hand of the skeletal body in my right, “...It is illogical to delay that fate.” With my left hand behind my back, I reach for the wire that connects my processor to my battery, wrap my fingers around it, and pull with as much force as possible. The world goes dark as I hear the rip.