Rust

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
As the Earth crumbles under the weight of disease, all that is left is the rusted robots. When one of them thinks for itself, it uses its intelligence to go exploring the planet, in which survival is the only thing that matters.

Submitted: September 01, 2019

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Submitted: September 01, 2019

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The robots lived in the rusty factories on Earth.

Some moved slowly; some gazed out of the rotten windows. 

Their eyes were blank.

In the centuries past, their human owners made sure they survived. 

Archerson, the owner, was dead from smoking too many cigarettes. He wasn't used to making the robots to be intelligent; he was used to the formal way of increasing the robot's behavioral patterns; he was thinking, when he turned eighty, that his lifetime of ill-use hadn't tainted the past, present, and future world of rust.

In the end, Archerson had a heart attack, and his death caused the robots to feel a new emotion: sadness.

~~~

The robots were built for one reason. 

To take over planet Earth because Mankind had killed it by violence, and other forms of disease that ravaged the planet's continuation of the majestic cities, and towns. In short, human beings became their own worst enemy; their way of thinking revolved around creating more problems; their problems forced the robots to be reactive. 

And, lastly, Earth wasn't majestic. 

It was a false dream.

The robots knew what it meant to live in the rusty, rotten, planet. They wanted to control the factories; they wanted to see the black smoke which burst out of the brick chimneys, causing instant death to human beings, but not the robots. They didn't ingest the bad atmosphere, and had lung disease over the decades of time itself. 

Archerson knew what was coming in the future.

His death from old age was a warning.

The robots moved onward towards the old factories.

They worked on better management of planet Earth.

They started with New York, in America. 

It was the beginning, as the robots moved along the blackened roads, as the future crumbled around them.

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© Copyright 2019 Robert Helliger. All rights reserved.

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