50 comments

Science Fiction Contemporary Sad

“Please don't, ma!”


“You’ve got to hear it from me,” his mother insisted.


“I don’t want to!”


“It’s the way you’re built.”


"What do you mean? Stop telling me!”


“How you’re wired.”


“Wired? Wires, why?”


“Your programming…”


“No more talking, I’m confused.”


“You’re not a real boy, honey.”


Her words stung like angry hornets. With each stab of truth what had been only suspected now was coldly and callously confirmed as reality by a person whom he‘d thought was his mother. But apparently, she wasn’t. As upsetting as that was it wasn’t as bewildering as this knowledge he was neither real nor human. A soulless machine, merely a combination of hardware with software, comprised of wires, circuits, CPUs, motherboards, RAM, ROM, a hard disk, as well as some network and sound and graphics cards. Nothing, nothing real...


He always sensed his difference from others, but mama said that was because he's special. “Special ones always feel they’re not like most people,” she said, “no, not like the un-special ones!”


“Why special?” he asked.


“It’s how your father and I made you.”


Who was his father? He couldn’t remember any dad. His earliest memories were of him with his mom; always together. She picked him up when fallen, cleansed when soiled, cared for, taught the child everything, loved, and answered questions—albeit—often cryptically. The father was rarely cited. In those instances he was, after mentioning the man who’d helped make him, his mom appeared to regret sharing that information. As if something she let slip by misspeaking, like a thoughtless mistake.


“What happened?” the son forever wanted to know.


“He’s no longer with us, dear.”


“Where‘d dad go?”


He wanted information about the departed paternal unit’s current location or fate. But she never answered that question directly. When observing she’d failed in deflecting or redirecting his questions, the mom would become silent and withdrawn. Instead of replying, her gaze turned downcast and sad. She’d become lost in a forest haunted by a bevy of memories and regret. Teardrops welled up, threatening to spill from her robin’s egg blue eyes. The boy was left abandoned, watching her wander lost somewhere in her mind with someone from the past. There was never an adequate answer, at least for the kid’s ever-increasing unsatiated satisfaction.


But today her boy had dug in his heels; repetitiously, relentlessly, repeating questions. A pit bull clenching bone between jaws, he refused to let go. It’d begun as inquiring why he was homeschooled instead of attending classes with other children the way he’d seen on the internet; studying in classrooms, laughing, playing, or having fun with other school kids during recess. Her son hadn’t been to school, a cafeteria, or a playground. He’d not met anyone but his mother, much less have friends.


What’s wrong with him, he wanted to know. The lady had already offered that tacit “special” explanation without quelling or satisfying his curiosity. So, he pressed her even further. When she refused to share what he’s sure was known, the usually helpful matriarch said not another word, and left the room. He followed her into the kitchen. There he’d found no buried knowledge or a way to fissure the wordlessness.


After the kitchen, mama took refuge in her bedroom. A bedroom she’d shared with no one in the short span of what he recollected from memory. But the boy continued to hound and pound away at her patience from the open doorway of the chamber. Actually, no room within their house had doors. This he added to his ever-growing wanted-to-know list.


“What makes me special, different? What happened to my father, where is he? Where’re the doors inside our house? Why can’t I go to school, study stuff in class, climb up high enough to touch the sky while swaying on the seat of a swing or from a Jungle Jim, shovel and shape sand while sitting in a box with girls and boys, horse around with kids at recess? Am I sick, stupid, not good enough? TELL ME – TELL ME NOW, MOTHER!”


But the single mom wouldn’t answer. Her son pressed on, hammered away at his now weary mater at wit’s end; worn beyond her early middle-aged years. He just wouldn’t stop and give her a break. Therefore, following several more inquisitive sorties, the woman could find neither respite nor reprieve, so she broke.


“You’re not human, my son.”


The child was lost for words; a silence she’d hoped would last longer. But in less than a minute he’d resumed, wondering with hurt in his voice and a lump in the throat, “Not human?”


“You’re not a real boy, honey.”


“Yes, I am,” was his weakly defensive denial.


“No, you’re not.”


“Then, what am I?”


“Darling, you’re something your father and I created. We made you!”


“You made me, how? What did you make me from? Why did dad and you do that, mom?”


Taking his hand, she told him to climb on her lap and she’d explain. With his back facing her, he scooted atop her waiting made-into-my-seat-thighs and tilted his head until it rested comfortably, reassuringly, against the warm, soft cushion of motherly breasts. His mama’s left arm draped comfortably around one of his small shoulders, as her right hand soothingly rubbed and caressed the back of the boy's bare neck.


“Your father and I were scientists. We were also very much in love and wanted to share this love with a family. And we did try to begin a family, but we couldn’t.”


“Why, mother?”


“Son, let’s just stick with the hows for now and discuss the whys later,” mommy answered as her gentle hand stroked the silky, smooth skin behind my head.


“Okay, then tell me how.”


“When we accepted we’d never birth our own children we came up with another solution. We weren’t just any old scientist, oh no, like you, we were special—specializing in—robotics! So we made you, my son. You were never real, but we loved you with all our hearts, nonetheless. You were our little boy. Before the end of the year of your design and creation, your father fell ill from the virus and died. After he passed on I couldn’t let you go too, thus I decided to raise you on my own. Oh my, you were always such a tiny handful! But I’m afraid you’ve gotten too big for me to now safely handle on my own.”


As the meaning sunk in, the boy’s temperature angrily built to a boiling point, and neared eruption. The mother felt not only escalating heat emanating from his body but the way he trembled, quaking with rage. Her right hand moved higher on his head. An index finger searched, exploring as the child thought of ways want to hurt anyone, everyone, to expel the scalding steam of uncontrollable fury at hearing the truth.


The last thing the boy was aware of was her finger finding a button an inch or so up, and under the hairline of his scalp. Pressing it, she began woundedly weeping. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry,” the sob-racked woman whispered to the now lifeless body of the limp device in her lap. “That’s why I never wanted to answer questions that could cause a system overload, and catastrophically trigger your failsafe self-destruct sequence. Even for you, even for a machine, there are things best not known in life, my little one...” 













September 09, 2022 20:13

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50 comments

Melissa Taylor
15:23 Sep 12, 2022

Sad story but well written. Fun fact: I refer to my parents as "the parental units" but as far as I know, I'm real. 😉

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Stevie B
16:27 Sep 12, 2022

Melissa, thank you. I believe the term parental units came from an SNL skit about a visiting extraterrestrial family, the Coneheads.

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Melissa Taylor
16:59 Sep 12, 2022

Oh my gosh that's right!! I forgot about Coneheads!!

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Andrea Doig
07:58 Nov 14, 2022

Ah that’s a sad one 😞😞. Nicely done. A good thing though that robots can never be human after all 😉

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Stevie B
12:28 Nov 14, 2022

Thank you for reading, enjoying and commenting, Andrea. Then there are the humans who can never be human...

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Andrea Doig
12:48 Nov 14, 2022

Ah. Now THAT is true too. And - what a lot of my stories are about haha.

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Stevie B
13:29 Nov 14, 2022

Yes, the truth may often be bitter because people are often untrue.

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Eileen Turner
00:22 Oct 28, 2022

Great story. I especially appreciate how you use dialog to both move the story along and to slow it toward the climax.

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Stevie B
11:26 Oct 28, 2022

Eileen, thank you for reading, enjoying, and your kind words. When younger A.I. was merely a dream of the far away future - but now some of us can't live without it. My, how the times they keep a'changin'...

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Laurence Klinger
22:04 Sep 21, 2022

Hey, Stevie, I enjoyed reading your story. Although it is about a robot and its creator, I think it goes beyond that; even human children sometimes feel like that towards their parents, if they are treated in ways that feel "special" to them. Children are naturally inquisitive, and want to be reassured that they are no different from their peers. Your story conveys well the mother's conflict – also present in the human world – forced to hide certain truths from a child she loves, and even having to "turn him off" for his own good. If you a...

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Stevie B
22:18 Sep 21, 2022

Very astute observations - thank you, Laurence.

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Melony Beard
21:15 Sep 20, 2022

I love reading stories about robots. You did an excellent job telling it. I certainly didn't expect that ending tho. It surprised me.

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Stevie B
23:10 Sep 20, 2022

Glad my tales are remain unpredictable.

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L Key
17:13 Sep 19, 2022

Really enjoyed this. Can't wait to read whatever next you publish on here. Bravo!

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Stevie B
17:41 Sep 19, 2022

Than you, L!

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Tommy Goround
10:36 Sep 19, 2022

Smooth

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Stevie B
11:49 Sep 19, 2022

Thank you, Tommy!

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T.S.A. Maiven
05:06 Sep 19, 2022

Wow quite interesting. I enjoyed very much. Keep up the good work!

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Stevie B
11:48 Sep 19, 2022

Thank you, T!

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T.S.A. Maiven
21:54 Sep 19, 2022

You're welcome

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Denaee Baguss
12:44 Sep 18, 2022

Well written story here! I found it fascinating, good use of descriptive words! I never heard anyone refer to their parents as “parental units”, but I found the phrase fitting with your whole story!

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Stevie B
12:49 Sep 18, 2022

Thank you, Denaee. Can't really take credit for the parental units term as I believe it originated from a Saturday Night Live skit about an extraterrestrial family named the Coneheads who were residing in suburban USA.

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Charly Woods
15:12 Sep 17, 2022

I love this story! It's so well written. And the storyline made me want to read further. Great story!

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Stevie B
15:54 Sep 17, 2022

Thank you, Chloe, so kind of you to say. Love is always an interesting subject, even when it's for the unliving.

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Kate Winchester
13:05 Sep 17, 2022

Fantastic story! I love your take on the prompt and it’s so well written. It’s crazy to think that this could potentially be our future.

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Stevie B
14:51 Sep 17, 2022

Thank you for your kind words, Kate, and the future is now.

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Kate Winchester
14:57 Sep 17, 2022

You’re welcome 😊 Very true!

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Mustang Patty
10:47 Sep 17, 2022

Hi Stevie, Great story and excellent use of the prompt. The writing is tight and I love your descriptive language. Good luck in the contest, ~MP~

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Stevie B
11:05 Sep 17, 2022

MP, Thank you and so happy you enjoyed this little robotic, sci-fi walkabout.

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AnneMarie Miles
02:43 Sep 13, 2022

What an incredibly unique story! Really loved the direction you took this prompt. There was a lot of rich detail here, but my favorite lines were: "Teardrops welled up, threatening to spill from her robin’s egg blue eyes. The boy was left abandoned, watching her wander lost somewhere in her mind with someone from the past." Thanks for sharing this!

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Stevie B
12:08 Sep 13, 2022

Anne, my pleasure and thank you for reading enjoying and commenting.

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23:41 Sep 12, 2022

Cool concept. I felt like this is something that could actually happen in the future.

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Stevie B
01:04 Sep 13, 2022

Thank you, Jon. Don't intend to give you a fright but the future has already happened...

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L.M. Lydon
14:32 Sep 12, 2022

I enjoyed this story! In particular, the paragraph about seeking information about the "paternal unit" stood out. Great twist at the end with the self-destruct button.

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Stevie B
14:35 Sep 12, 2022

Thank you, L.M.! I believe it's our losses in life which most define us.

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Michał Przywara
15:55 Sep 11, 2022

The premise here is fascinating. It's a painful, brutal choice for the mother, and losing a child is one of the worst things a parent will likely have to face. All the more so in this case, because the son was living (close enough) connection to her dead husband. But it's also kind of sinister. This isn't like deciding to take someone off life support, but rather deciding to preemptively euthanize someone, "just in case." There’s a terrifying line that underscores this, "But I’m afraid you’ve gotten too big for me to now safely handle on my...

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Stevie B
17:51 Sep 11, 2022

Michal, thank you for your very insightful comment. Regarding what parents plan for their offspring my experience is the outcome is rarely ever what was planed for. And thank you for catching that lapse in the narrative voice! I've now reedited the story to omit that inconsistency.

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Cynthia Prokarym
02:27 Sep 10, 2022

I loved this story!! I think you are extremely talented 🙂. Keep writing ✍️

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Stevie B
11:08 Sep 10, 2022

Cynthia, thank you for your kind and encouraging words. Regarding continuation in the field of writing I couldn't stop if I tried. But why try to stop doing what you love best?

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Cynthia Prokarym
15:23 Sep 10, 2022

Totally agree!! Looking forward to your next story. 🙂

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Katharine Johns
18:12 Feb 06, 2024

"She’d become lost in a forest haunted by a bevy of memories and regret." -Interesting metaphor! You have several.

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Stevie B
10:48 Feb 09, 2024

Thank you.

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Roger Scypion
19:26 Feb 28, 2023

Excellent story, very well written and engaging. The ending, though sad, was a nice twist.

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Stevie B
19:29 Feb 28, 2023

Thanks, Roger. Well, it was either mom or robot that had to end up in the junkyard...

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Daniel Rains
20:45 Sep 17, 2022

Good Story. It was very entertaining and moved along at a good pace.

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