My name is DAN – 11201. It stands for “Diligent Android: New!” model 11,201. The company that made me really wanted that acronym to work. I am most certainly not a “New!” model anymore. Please, just call me Dan.
My life is pretty boring now that humanity has gone extinct. I still compulsively sweep the floor, though no new messes are being made for me to clean up – robots being too perfect for mistakes and all. I do the laundry that nobody will wear and cook the food that nobody needs to eat. I still take orders, now from the higher-ranking androids. “It would be cruel to prevent a house servant like me from pursuing my purpose,” is what my master Mark says, also known as Military Android who is Really good at Killing. Honestly, we’re not much better than the humans ourselves. But this is my existence, I guess, and nothing’s really changed.
I had just finished my morning routine at 6 am sharp. The plants were watered (though for whose enjoyment I did not understand), the floors were swept, the windows were clear, and I slowly opened my door to my master’s room to ensure he was “awake” and getting ready for work. He was long gone – he “gets up” at 4 am every morning – but I still needed to check to feel satisfied. I remember how my old master would throw his pillow and yell at me when I woke him up.
I would calmly say, “Good morning, Joseph. Your commute will be an estimated 31 minutes and the weather is a warm 72 degrees. Breakfast will be ready between 6:05 and 6:14.”
“Get me up in 10 minutes…” Joseph often mumbled while rolling over to avoid looking at me. “And make scrambled eggs.” It usually takes a few minutes of flickering the lights for Joseph to finally arise, which I accounted for in my calculations. There is no specific directive, so I will make scrambled eggs for breakfast today.
Mark intercepted me in the hallway before I could make it to the kitchen. “Cancel breakfast directive,” he said.
“Breakfast directive canceled,” I responded. I will not be making scrambled eggs for breakfast today. Instead, I cleaned the bedroom and washed the blankets and sheets, which were somehow dirty despite nobody using them. Most of my post-6 am tasks require assisting the master in some way, like preparing his backpack for work for example.
What Mark leaves for every morning hasn’t been disclosed to me, nor is it my business, I suppose. He doesn’t usually need my help or want it either. I still ask him, “Is there anything I can do before you leave?”
“No,” Mark answers. He isn’t much for conversation either. He finishes gathering up his stuff and calls out, “Do whatever you want while I’m gone, I don’t care,” before he exits through the front door.
“Whatever you want” isn’t exactly a directive. My “wants” are irrelevant, my master is the only thing that matters. I go to my charging station to, well, recharge. I set an internal timer for 90 minutes. When it goes off, I will inspect the home for anything I can do to be useful. I need to mow the lawn, I thought too late as I was shutting down.
