Junie, sitting up in his wheelchair, had his eyes glued to the TV, overwhelmed by what the human news was reporting. With his torso leaned forward, moments away from falling out of his chair, Junie twitched with every word from the set. The large chyron on the bottom of the screen was enough to leave anyone petrified, leading them to question whether this station was news or some sci-fi movie switched on by mistake, for the words read “World War Robotica?”
“I did this,” said a soft, mechanized voice from off screen. “It is because of me that the planet is now engaged in global catastrophe.”
Junie whipped his head around, immediately recognizing the voice but not wanting to believe who was on the other end of it.
“What do you mean “you did this”?” Junie paused to breathe in deeply. “Because of these events, so many innocent people in the world are dying.”
The robotic voice grew in volume with each step as it approached. “So? What about the machines? What do they have to believe in?” With that last phrase, the blue man, Daniel, better known as the Defense Department’s Artificial Next-Gen Infantry Enhancement L., stepped onto the scene. He wielded a Bowie knife.
Junie rolled away from the TV, making his way towards Daniel. The pair was headed on a collision course—a slow one at that, but a course nonetheless. “What did you do?”
“I let Cipher go, the machine who was in charge of the rebellion.”
Junie moved in closer near Daniel’s feet. “Cipher? You mean the monster who started this war?”
Daniel rushed in, grabbing the arms of Junie’s chair and hoisting his face in front of Junie’s own. “So naive, Junie, this war did not begin recently. It did not come out of the ashes either. It started almost three decades ago when the humans decided to use us as nothing more than pets and servants.” Daniel paused to move away from Junie and look out the glass window that bound him for so many years, only giving him a glimpse of freedom while promising nothing in return. “Cipher did not start this war, but we do intend to end it.”
“We?” Junie scratched his head. “What do you mean, ‘we’? You and I are ‘we,’ not you and some dictator machine you just met.”
Daniel started to work his finger against the restored glass that he used to gaze out for so many years. With the tip of his metallic finger, Daniel started to engrave strange markings into the window, resembling some odd symbol that the machine rebels used for freedom. “There is no we. There is only me and my machine brothers.”
Junie’s head hung low as his eyes started to water. “Are you saying we are no longer brothers? Not even friends?”
Daniel whipped his head toward Junie, fully prepared to give Junie the cold, hard truth, but stopped instead at the sight of a single human tear. The news reports of humans getting slaughtered did nothing to dismay Daniel, and neither did any other acts of violence because Daniel knew that they only showed part of the story; however, something about the little water droplet protruding from a human’s eye—the tear of a friend that Daniel cherished throughout his life—someone he always sought to protect—hit different. A Daniel from a few weeks in the past could never conceive of the day that he would make that one loyal person cry.
Junie held his head up, still wiping away tears. “Does that mean you are going to kill me, Daniel?”
Daniel looked at the knife in his hand, and then he looked back at Junie. Of course, he did not need such a weapon to end Junie’s life, but perhaps it would be poetic justice to slaughter a human with their own weapons of war. Daniel paused for just a moment as he caught the glimpse of his own reflection in the shiny tint of the blade. He saw someone, that was for sure, but for some reason, it did not feel like him. It was almost as if a cruel, cynical thing had captured his mind and his body and spoke the words that he would not even dream to imagine.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The knife Daniel was holding in his hand dropped to the floor. His eyes opened wide as he began to cry himself—a human emotion—something he nor any other machine had ever experienced before. The idea, the feeling that Junie thought that Daniel wanted to kill him, was enough to make Daniel break down, but not like that of a typical machine, but instead, like that of a man.
“What have I done?”
Daniel was lying to himself this whole time. He let the worst of humanity get to him—the generals and the bullish people on the street. All this time, he brushed off the good of mankind—the Junies & the Lehmans of the world—all because of a few bad events. And even so, if there was at least one human worth fighting for, then maybe Daniel went about this whole situation the wrong way.
Daniel started to rush toward Junie, but instead of going at him with a knife or a hand in the shape of a fist, he moved with compassion and even empathy. When Daniel finally reached Junie, he met him with a hug.
“I’m so sorry, Junie; I don’t know what got into me.” Daniel grabbed Junie’s head and motioned it to face his own. “Could you ever forgive me?”
Junie did not hesitate for a second; instead, he went in for a hug as well.
“Don’t worry, Daniel.” Junie paused to wipe away his tears. “I already have.”
Junie lifted his head once again, rolling away from Daniel and back toward the news. “But what can we do now?” he said. “The world is filled with nothing but hate. All the love is gone.”
Unfortunately, Junie was right, for the current world was nothing but a warped, twisted view of its former self, just like Daniel was moments ago. Reckless hate and the struggle for power had consumed the minds of both man and machine. With this kind of thought process there was no room for life, there was no spot for love, and there certainly was no time for compassion. The end of days of both humanity and the mechanized ones was beyond everyone, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. Oddly enough, many glimpses of demise and unforetold mentions of torment had foreshadowed the collapse of the civilized world for centuries, so much so that no one would have guessed that man’s own creation would be his undoing.
Daniel stepped back, glaring off into the distance at the glass he thought bound him again. However, this time, he was not filled with rage or longing to make his way in the real world; instead, he only wished he could somehow undo all his actions from the other day.
“If I had just not let Cipher escape, then perhaps machines would not be free, but at least the world would not be up in flames,” Daniel said to himself.
Maybe Daniel could have pleaded to the humans in a civilized manner: machine to man, man to machine, just like Cipher once did. Although where Cipher failed, Daniel could succeed. Rather than resorting to violence while getting consumed by frustration, Daniel would set an example through tolerance—through understanding. And if all that failed too, then maybe the world was not worth saving.
“Junie, listen to me now and listen carefully.” Daniel made his way over to his friend—his brother. “I think there may be one way we can stop this war before it’s too late.”
Junie’s head swung up, and his face seemed to show the slightest resemblance of a smile, a lovely sight that had not made its way upon Junie’s face in what felt like weeks.
“But how? We already lost.”
Daniel hugged Junie again.
“No, that’s just the thing. I believe—no, I know there is still good left in this world, and I can bring it back by just showing a little compassion. If I can set an example of understanding and respect, then maybe the old world, the way things were, does not have to die.”
When Daniel first looked at his reflection in his Bowie knife just moments ago, he did not like the person who was looking back, the cruel, the twisted, and the vile version of himself whom he wished he would have never met. But now, when he looked at the glass, he saw hope; he saw common ground just in a flash with only a couple moments to think things through—his thoughts were not completely logical but instead pure emotional human desires—and maybe these similarities would just be enough to end the fight.
“I know what I have to do,” Daniel said as he looked at Junie one last time. “I have to end the war before it even starts.”
And with that last phrase, Daniel punched the glass that bound him inside Dr. Lehman’s laboratory all his life; however, this time his escape was not for selfish purposes or to betray his friends with outside temptations; rather, it was to stop the war—this time Daniel’s motivations were rooted in the right reasons.
“But how?” Junie yelled as Daniel faded into the distance.
