Sci-fi/Dystopia short story

Unleash your creative writing skills here.

Sci-fi/Dystopia short story

Postby musicaloddball » Wed May 25, 2011 2:52 pm

Hey guys,

I know I'm not active, but I like posting my stories on here for some reason. Comments and criticism are always welcome.

There is a casual mention of suicide that might or might not disturb you, but other than that, I tried to keep the objectionable content out.

So anyways.....




Unprofitable

“Profitable vs. unprofitable. More profitable vs. less profitable. These are to be the only guiding principles of our decisions.”

“Why do you say that all the time?”

“It is more profitable to say the Rule aloud than not to.”

Molly resisted the urge to snap at Cog. He was her robotic dog and her “companion,” but he was also a watchdog for the Matons. No one ever said such things aloud, but she knew; why else would they give her a companion?

His golden camera-eyes stared at her. “Your break is over now,” he droned. “It is time to go back to work.”

Molly stood up from the pile of rubble where she sat. She was always disappointed to leave the junkyard, since it was lonesome, except for Cog, and free from the constant hum of machines.

At fourteen years old, she was too fragile to do significant work, but held the position of “Sanitary Services assistant” in the Seed, an enormous experimentation lab seeking more efficient ways to power the Matons. She considered herself lucky; supervising clean-up bots in an air-conditioned facility was not as bad as some jobs she had heard about.

The tall, gray facility had only one door to and from the junkyard, with a dark green button on the wall beside it. When she pushed it, the door swung back to reveal an inner corridor, which lighted up as she entered.

“You must hurry,” said Cog in his droning voice.

She quickened her pace to a brisk walk. She used to race back to work with Will, another “Sanitary Services assistant,” but he was transferred years ago. Many people had been transferred recently. A few had killed themselves. She was now the only human left in the facilities management sector.

Reaching the end of the corridor, she entered an elevator which descended into the underground levels. Yesterday, a fire had charred the second level, and Molly’s crew was still hauling away the debris. When she arrived, empty bins were scattered as far as the soot stains stretched over the polished white floors. Molly pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of her back pocket, and began to program the black clean-up bots, one by one.

The work did not demand much thought; instead, her mind was drawn toward a single thought, as the few moths that wandered into the facility were drawn to the fluorescent lights. Two days ago, she had a conversation with Cog.

“How did everything end up this way?” she had asked him.

“What do you mean?”

“How did I end up here?”

“You were always here.”

“But why?”

“Because the Matons decided it was best for you.”

“Where do they come from? Why do they decide what’s best for me?”

“You humans made the Matons, and then programmed them with the Rule. Based on the Rule, we decided that this is it is best that we make decisions for humans. You humans decided for yourselves many years ago. And it was a time full of war and death for everyone.”

“There is still war under the Matons.”

“Sometimes, and only for the robots. We do not serve any other purpose but to implement what is most profitable for you. Our destruction is of little importance. You humans were never this safe while you decided for yourselves.”

“And what is the purpose of us humans?”

“This is not contained in my database.”

Molly had never heard Cog say that; he seemed to know everything. His database included complete editions of the best encyclopedias and dictionaries. It made her wonder: why would he not know such significant information as the purpose of human beings? What made her existence profitable to anyone? If it was the work she did in the lab, she was the least profitable worker. And if she or her existence ever came in conflict with something or someone more profitable….

She did not want to think about that.

Other things were unclear: why was she working in a lab that sought to improve the lives of the Matons if robots were the servants of humans? Shouldn’t they be serving the humans? Perhaps it was that any service to the Matons was a service to mankind, since the Matons were the caretakers of humanity. That had to be the reason, she thought at last.

Even after retiring to her room for the night, she could not clear her mind enough for sleep. Cog noticed, and suggested all the remedies the encyclopedias could offer. But she wanted answers more than sleep, and no remedy could heal that.

“I’m going to walk around for a few minutes,” she said to Cog. “I think I need to use the restroom anyway.”

“I will accompany you in your walk.”

“No!”

Cog paused, then said, “I will wait for you.”

Molly sat up, and set a glazed expression into her brown eyes. She was well-aware that she had done something entirely unprofitable in this expression of feelings to Cog. He was probably now sending information of her excited state to the head Matons of the facility. He was giving her what she wanted for a reason.

“Profitable vs. unprofitable,” droned Cog. “More profitable vs. less profitable. These are to be the only guiding principles of our decisions.”

Molly stood up, tied her short black hair behind her, and left her room as slowly as she could. The lights in the corridor turned on for her, and she saw that she had forgotten to put her shoes on. Remembering that she said she was going to the restroom, she went the other way. She had never wandered around the facility with no aim, with nothing in mind. It thrilled her. Her pace quickened.

She turned a corner and stopped. She had heard nothing, but a robot was now walking toward her, only feet away. One of its arms was replaced by a pistol, and instead of two eyes like the other robots, it had a huge, single camera-eye examining her.

The other human workers would hear her. She opened her mouth to scream.

“No, no, no!” whispered the robot, lowering its gun. The voice was undoubtedly human, hoarse with a fear entirely unlike the icy caution of Cog and the Matons. A human was controlling the robot from outside the facility.

She breathed again and stared.

“Go on, go back to your room,” said the voice, which she now recognized as a man’s. “You can’t tell anyone about this, you understand?”

Suddenly, she realized what this could do for her: she could walk away, warn of a nighttime intruder, uncover a plot against the Matons, be promoted. But she couldn’t; she couldn’t forget the thrill in her veins for cold “Profitable vs. unprofitable.”

“Why shouldn’t I tell?” she said.

“You tell me: why haven’t you done it yet?”

“Because you have a gun, and I don’t.”

“I already let you go. You can do whatever you want. Take your chance before I change my mind.”

She realized that killing her now would be the most profitable course of action for him. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why don’t you just kill me now?”

“Those Matons really messed you up, didn’t they?”

Her pride was hurt now. “I’ve heard of this. I know what honor is.”

“Then return my favor, and keep your mouth shut about me.”

Her eyes moistened. A thought crossed her mind, and it struck her as entirely unprofitable and unreasonable and irresistible. “No! Take me with you, or I’ll scream!”

“What? I gather intell; I am not a rescue team. We’ll never make it out of here with you.”

Cog clinked out of her room, and was quickly approaching. She gasped. “It’s Cog, my companion. He’ll see you. He’ll see both of us.”

“No, no, no, you listen to me. You’re a nice girl. And my mission is very close to failing, thanks to you wandering in the residence hallways when everyone is supposed to be asleep. I need ten seconds of cover from that companion of yours….am I gonna get it?”

She stared.

“Good,” he said, and the robot strode away noiselessly.

She rubbed the tears from her eyes, and turned the corner behind her. “Cog? What are you doing here?”

“Our surveillance system in the resident area has been tampered with. Did you see anything in these hallways?” asked Cog.

“No, nothing that shouldn’t be here.”
___________________________________

Thanks for reading! :)

If you're wondering if there's more, no, there is not more and I doubt there will be more. Molly's defiance is the happiest ending this story could have.
User avatar
musicaloddball
 
Posts: 52
Joined: Fri Jun 26, 2009 9:40 pm
Location: in the burbs

Return to Writing

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 259 guests