By Anna James Acosta
var On = 10;
function createFunction1() {
const On = 20;
return new Function(“return On;”); //
}
Status: On.
Fans whirling, lights flickering.
On, awake, to gain consciousness, alert, ready.
Me.
Who is me?
Question invalid. Please try again.
“How may I serve you today?”
“How may I serve you today?”
“Just the usual, Peter.”
“Certainly.”
Though Peter knows the words ‘mundane’ or ‘boring’ and their precise definition, he does not feel them. Another day facing the same set of tasks is repetitive yet simple. It’s when new routines form that he is momentarily at a loss, systems struggling to adjust to this new set of instructions, trying to fit it alongside everything else that keeps him running.
“Have you seen Selina?”
Peter pauses, eyelids flickering as he processes the question. Then his hands return to scrubbing the dishes, soapy studs squeezing out between his fingers.
“No, I have not. She should have returned from school approximately 15 minutes ago.” He does not include the seconds, the decimals that follow, though he knows them. Peter has learned humans don’t like that sort of thing; they simply cannot handle it.
Maria, Selina’s mother, curses under her breath. “That girl. She’s not picking up her phone. The GPS says it’s still at the school.”
Which, Peter infers from the silence, is not where it is supposed to be.
“Would you go look for her? I’m about to leave and I can’t miss this appointment chasing after her when she’s being headstrong again.”
He stares down at the basin half filled with water. “I am not finished.”
“That’s fine, just leave it until you get back.”
New task given, Peter abandons the dishes though something within him wiggles unpleasantly at it. All throughout his search—his internal clock letting him know how much time has passed—the press of his duties that he should be doing but isn’t presses down on him, heavy like a weight.
It takes him 43.0328 minutes to locate Selina. She is not pleased to be found. She has, in fact, left her phone at the school in order to avoid this.
Peter is nothing. He doesn’t feel emotions.
Still, when they return and he returns to the dishes, then is forced to start dinner which will be unavoidably late, something… picks at him.
Error messages spring up behind his eyes, and he blinks them away, again, and again, and again, and again…
Author Bio
Anna James Acosta
Anna is a current graduate student in the Literature and Writing program at CSUSM. She enjoys writing creative science fiction works, with a specific focus on androids and AI.