Our Children Left Abandoned
Castor looked at the phone in his hands. For a moment, he imagined that he hadn’t received the message he just had, basking in that idyllic fantasy. But, no, his next repair job would be done inside of the Cage. Castor shuddered at his imaginings of the machines that lurked there in: their sharply glowing eyes, their blank faces, the cold metal that made up their twisted frames.
But, one of the machines had died, according to the sensors kept deep inside the Cage. As far as Castor could remember, none of the machines had ever been broken beyond disrepair. He tried not to think of the lifeless metal husk slumped against a wall, still twitching.
There was a locked concrete building just down the street from Castor’s apartment. Nobody ever acknowledged it. It was just an uncomfortable reminder of past dreams of robot and human connection, something that everyone agreed they could do without. No one wanted to think about what the room led to, of the things with cold metallic hands and tangled wires. Castor agreed with the consensus. It was only with trepidation that he unlocked the small, squat, concrete building and walked inside.
There was no light switch, no cord that Castor could pull to bathe the room in a warm and friendly light. Instead, Castor was wreathed in darkness. Four flashlights were instead located on a shelf by a trap door. With the building as small as it was, these things took up most of the room. Castor grabbed two of the flashlights and tentatively opened up the trapdoor. A ladder, rusty from long years of disuse, awaited him. Castor took a deep breath and descended.
It took minutes for Castor to get to the bottom; the robots were buried deep. With every step, the dripping of water and the skittering of insects began to bore their way into his mind. Although disconcerting as those sounds were, Castor found them more agreeable than the things which awaited him below.
Castor reached the bottom of the ladder and held his flashlight like a weapon. It illuminated the faces of the robots. They had gathered around him in a circle, and they were drawing nearer.
One of them spoke. “Hello, Maker.” Expression and tone were almost indecipherable when it came to the robots, but Castor thought he could hear faint jubilation, “Why are you here; what has summoned you? How can we serve you? Oh, I am pleased that you are finally here in person.” Something that looked like motor oil trickled down the robot’s face and dripped off its chin.
“Oh no, I didn’t make you.” A nervous chuckle escaped through his lips before he could catch it. “I just wanted to see the robot that died. I’ll figure out what happened, and I’ll be gone. No need to stress.” The last part was said to himself as much as it was to the robots. His hands shook.
There was a whirring noise before the robot responded. “You wish to see R-Tiers? Why? He is no longer functioning; he cannot be fixed.”
“I just need to find out why he died, and, uh, I need to make sure that that doesn’t happen again. If something’s too dangerous, I’ll see if I can decommission it.”
There was more whirring. “You are here because a robot is broken beyond repair.”
“That’s right,” Castor said. He started to talk as if conversing with a child: speaking slowly and enunciating each word. “R-Tiers is dead, and so now I need to see him. Could you please show him to me?”
“Indubitably,” replied the robot, stressing each syllable as if it were a separate word. It seemed pleased for some reason.
Castor pointedly ignored the other robots. Perhaps they wouldn’t bother him if he did that. So he followed the robot out of the circle. The other machines stared at him, impassively, motionlessly. Castor made sure that he didn’t brush against any of the machines as he passed them.
The robot and the man traveled down the dark halls. The only light came from Castor’s flashlight bouncing around the walls. It only illuminated barren walls devoid of color, made only of muted grays, browns, and blacks. The robots had no need for light and no appreciation of art and beauty.
And all of the walls looked the same. Castor realized that without the robot that he was following, he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to the surface.
He walked quicker.
Castor heard the heavy machinery before he saw it. Unlike the electronic whirring and sputtering of the robots, the machinery made slow, heavy, rolling noises. It sounded like an omen. And so, Castor and the robot emerged from the dim hallway into what seemed at first to be a dark cavern. Castor swung his flashlight around, illuminating many different pieces of machinery. The Cage manufactured so many products that Castor could scarcely remember half of them.
The robot took Castor over to one of the machines. And there lay R-Tiers, or what had once been R-Tiers. The robot’s blackened husk lay probed against the wall. Every now and again its limbs wud twitch and writhe, before collapsing into stillness. Its metal frame was bent at the edges, looking like a crumpled piece of paper. Scorch marks dotted the metal. Castor dared not probe further nor touch the wires. Everything about R-Tiers looked unsafe.
“It looks like it was electrocuted. I don’t understand what could’ve done this.”
The robot didn’t answer for a second, and Castor could hear the whirring noise once again. Soon, however, the robot answered. It was in a lower tone than before. “There was an earthquake, and then a power surge. R-Tiers was caught off-guard. She was caught in some machinery. We found her like this. But do not worry. We have gotten the piece of machinery running again. There have been few delays.”
“You just left its body… never mind. Are you sure that that was how it was killed?”
“Yes. We are quite sure. Would you like me to take you to the machine in order for you to investigate further and find confirmation?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I have all the information I need.” Castor maintained composure, almost verging on politeness. Internally, he was cursing whatever protocol had sent him down into the Cage. He hadn’t even needed to do much work. Now, he was just glad to be leaving.
As Castor walked with the robot, the beam of his flashlight caught a dash of color on one of the walls to his right. Bright blues and reds stood out against the washed-out grays and dull monotones. He stopped and pointed he flashlight directly at a mural depicting hundreds of different human faces, all smiling. Each was rendered in such painstaking detail that Castor could almost hear the faces talking.
The robot, which stood next to Castor, sounded almost embarrassed and said, “We were lonely.” It did not elaborate further.
Castor was once again at the ladder. This time, however, he would ascend it and exit the blackroom. He was somewhat apprehensive, though. Every single one of the thirteen remaining robots had gathered. Each of their blank faces stared at him, almost mocking.
A robot—possibly different than the one Castor had been talking to earlier, though he couldn’t be sure—gave a timid farewell .“Goodbye. Would you please come back soon?”
Castor gave a vague gesture in their direction, saying “Maybe sometime soon. I’ll. . . visit.” And then he began to ascend.
Each rung up the ladder made him feel more at ease. Soon he could see cracks of light piercing through small holes in the trapdoor. And soon, though not quite soon enough, Castor reached the trapdoor and opened it. He set both his flashlight and the extra back on the shelf and opened the door. Sunlight streamed in. The rays of light seemed to kiss his face. He was out and away from that wretched place. Castor had been down there for less than an hour, but it had seemed so long. He couldn’t imagine how horrid it would be to live in such a place; he was glad no one did.
He reached his apartment and composed a report of the possible consequences of earthquakes on the cage.
Only a day had passed before he received word that another robot had died. It had taken over 20 years for the first one to be damaged beyond repair; it had taken less than 36 hours for the second.
Castor once again stared at the message he had just received, feeling pooling shock and horror. Most people never had to deal with the machines even once in their lives. Castor had to return to their buried grave for a second time.
He climbed down the ladder, into the dark. And once he descended, he was again surrounded by the remaining robots, now twelve in number. It was as if they had been waiting for him, softly glowing eyes blinking balefully. Castor shuddered.
“You came back for us, as you promised. O, this is such a joyous day.” One of them spoke. Castor wasn’t sure if it was the one who had escorted him on his last venture down into the Cage.
Castor almost missed the next thing that the robots said. “How have we summoned you here?” It was asked in a low tone, almost akin to a whisper. It was followed by the sound of clinking metal.
“Well,” Castor stood up straighter, trying to inject a note of command and authority into his voice. “I came to investigate the death of another one of you robots. What happened this time?”
One of the robots spoke in a quiet voice. “R-Faulta.” The name was picked up and repeated, in what was almost a chorus. “R-Faulta,” “R-Faulta,” “R-Faulta.”
Castor was deeply unsettled. He twisted his fingers which lay clasped behind his back.
This investigation was similar to the first. Here the reason was readily apparent. The cracked and broken body of the robot lay off to the side next to an industrial crushing machine. Its remains had been swept to the side, almost tidied away. And the machine was still working.
“We cleared away the body and ensured that the machine was still able to run. R-Faulta would not want to have hindered our service.” The robot spoke as soon as Castor’s gaze began to play across the industrial machine.
Castor watched the robot stare at the broken body of R-Faulta. There was a whirring noise. A few notes of music emanated from the robot. There was an eerie tint to the sound and it made Castor shudder. He tried not to dwell on the matter.
“So, R-Faulta fell into this crusher?”
“Yes. We found her in the output.”
“Nothing like this has ever happened before? The previous death was due to an unlikely edge case. But this?”
The whirring noise emanated from the robot again. “We do not often fail. I am sure R-Faulta would be extremely apologetic were she still with us. It was terrible. I wish that she had not fallen. I miss her.”
“That isn’t a real answer.”
“I apologize greatly.”
A moment passed and no one spoke. At last, the robot began again. “There seems to be some lingering damage from the earthquake. In addition, I think that there are those of us that have been distressed by the death of R-Tiers. Some of us have slipped. But. Still. Do not worry.”
Castor nodded, deciding not to delve further into the robot’s words. Instead, he drew closer to the crushing machine. It did seem to be working correctly, with finely ground sand being outputted.
The robot spoke again. “When R-Faulta’s fate proved that the machine was not operating as it should, we made sure to repair it. You do not need to worry about that account.”
“Ah, I see.” Castor decided that he was done, and would tell his superiors about the possibility of damage to the other industrial machines.
The man and the robot walked down the dark halls. Castor’s flashlight was the only source of illumination.
“Would you like to stay? We would honor you.”
“I think I’m good for the moment. But I’ll come back soon.”
They lapsed into silence and Castor could hear the robot’s metal feet skittering across the ground.
And Castor again ascended to the sunlit world above. He notified the corporation of the possible damage to the various industrial machines. The corporation thanked him and said they would look into it. Castor was glad for the fact that he would not need to visit the robots again.
Castor could not believe the message he just received. It had been six more days, and another robot had died. The first day after the second death, he had half-expected to again be called down into the blackness, among the glowing eyes and metal faces. By the fourth day, however, he had become assured that he was free. The taint of the place began to recede from his mind.
And yet there was another death. Castor would be required to again descend into the darkness.
“Hello.” Castor was greeted by a score of robots. They had been standing motionless in a circle around the ladder when he had climbed down. Castor might not have noticed them if not for their glowing, unblinking eyes.
There was silence, and Castor could hear dripping water and the far off rumbling of industrial machines.
“Another one died?”
One of the robots nodded. Castor watched as its head bobbed up and down slowly.
“There is something we have to show you.”
All of the robots began to move down one of the hallways, steps in sync. Castor stood, alone, for a moment. His flashlight illuminated the departing robots. As they began to disappear down the hallway, Castor found himself following.
Even as he did so, he watched the light flash off of their silvery bodies and wished he did not have to.
The procession of robots entered through a doorway so slight that he had to duck his head to enter. He was surprised to see the room bathed in light. The light was dim and flickering. But it was the most light he had seen in the cage apart from his flashlight. He entered the room and then stopped.
There was the shattered body of a robot splayed out on the table. Its broken body had been shaped, contorted. Pieces had been arranged with the utmost care. And it had been painted so that it wore a facsimile of Castor’s clothing.
“Please accept our offering, O Maker.”
Castor stood, shocked.
“Is our gift not enough? Please tell us what you require. Whatever it is we will provide it. We will find a way”
Another robot turned and gripped Castor’s clothes tightly. He stepped back.
“Do not leave us alone again. We beg of you.”
He turned, broke free from the robot’s grasp. As he looked back, torn fabric still lay clenched in the robot’s pincer.
He fled and heard the sounds of crying out behind him, like children separated from their parents.
