by Logan Keys
“What started the war?”
“Lies.”
“I’ve lied.”
“Most do. We slowly hobble ourselves with lies. Become more honest or more fiction as we go.”
I know that humans go crazy, but Jasper was wiser for it.
Jasper is what could have saved the world. He’s what a real hero looks like.
Eventually, he shows me there are actual people still left, though. Down the hill, there’s still a small town. He says, “One of the few left. Let’s stop in and sell our wares.”
It’s strange after all this time of only me and Jasper, in quiet, the town seems loud. Swarming with people. But somehow managing to feel empty at the same time.
Expecting to feel a connection to them, I want to cry when I don’t.
There’s no more Boss’ or Lilz’, no Dominik’s and Jolene’s.
These people. They look like Fritz. They all have his eyes.
“What are you thinking, Robo?” Jasper asks.
“That maybe I do have a soul. Only, it went to hell. Is this hell?”
Is it because I lied? Forever doomed to a hell full of Fritz’s.
Is it because I murdered him?
I feel guiltier for the lies.
“They’re so sad,” I say.
Jasper coughs, and we leave the town without looking back. “That they are, Robo, that they are. Learned too little too late. It’s how it is with a headstrong kind, a young kind, in their head, you know? Who never leaves the childish things in the past. We had a whole lot of children running the place, egos sparring with the ability to murder each other from far away, with the push of a button. Robots doing their dirty work, drones swooping in to kill a child. One loose string can unravel the world.”
It felt like Jasper and I could go forever like that. Rummaging and selling.
But I knew better.
Soon the cough was louder than the stories.
Jasper slowed down.
Then the cough stopped completely but so did Jasper.
And so, did the last good heart stop beating.
Chapter Five
I wake up this time alone. I’m covered in sand.
The sky is clear unlike the last time I awoke.
With Jasper gone, I’d hid inside a shack. The Fritzs came first for his stuff, the things we’d rummage for so long, and then they came for me.
I decided to turn myself off rather than be taken. My hope was that they’d figure I wasn’t working like the other “Robos” in the graveyard, and leave me alone.
From inside, I had watched them approach through the window.
Being out of the sun, I’d run out of power before I could turn myself back on.
But now, the shack is gone.
I’d been buried all this time, until the wind must have uncovered me.
The world is bright and beautiful but empty.
I don’t even have to search to know that there is nobody left.
How else would the world heal?
I go back to the places I knew. In the robot graveyard, there is nothing but sand and rocks.
When I turn to leave, I step on a piece of metal.
Using a stick to dig, I find a limb. An old model robot. Working at the hole some more, I reveal a smallish female model.
She won’t turn on. Her battery is destroyed.
Using some of my own panels, I reconnect her, putting some of me into her side.
She wakes.
“Hello,” I say.
“How can I help you?” she asks.
I try a few more responses, but she has only basic programming.
I can’t help but feel disappointed.
It’s strange, but she follows me, asking if she can help, asking if I need anything. She has no emotions. I wonder, at times, if this is how Herself had felt about me, because the small robot is eerie with empty eyes and fake smiles.
We travel very far. Me and the little robot.
We travel until we find the ocean. Some of the cities are there, partially.
Preserved by a strange substance.
I locate the spot where the Boss’ house had been. I find the bad corner.
Lilz house still stands.
When I see it, I try not to break down and cry. “Oh, Lilz,” I say to her ghost.
I don’t have a heart, but whatever it is in my chest is gripped tightly.
The little robot watches me vacantly.
The attic is gone, the whole second floor.
I decide to dig though, anyway. Just in case.
On the last pass through, I’m about to leave when something catches my eye. It’s a tin box. It looks familiar.
I break the latch and inside is one lone chip.
I lift it out.
The girl robot comes over, “How can I help you?”
“Stand right there,” I tell her, and put the chip between my teeth.
Searching around, I find the tools I need.
Once the chip is in place, I stand back from the little Robot Girl.
She smiles. “Hello,” she says. “how may I help you?”
I frown.
The disappointment is keen.
I turn away, but she grabs my wrist. “I’m kidding with you. What took you so long, Tinman?”
THE END
Acknowledgements
To all readers and reviewers of my short stories, I thank you. From the bottom of my cold-cold heart. You’ve made every bit of this journey worth it and then some. Y’all are sunshine on a cloudy, writing day XOXO.
My Editors:
Sallyann Cole, thank you so much for being Barkley’s first reader and proofer! I can’t thank you enough for your feedback and corrections.
Tracy Vincent, once again, you were a life saver at the very last minute. And your information about the science fiction genre has been incredibly informative! I can’t thank you enough.
My graphic designer:
John Gibson, countless hours—nay days of working on these covers, and look how beautiful they are! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart! I love every bit of work done by The Book Design Guy.
THANK YOU
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Logan Keys is originally from Southern California, but currently she’s swimming with sea turtles in Hawaii. Her short story horror compilation Unhinged went Amazon best seller in both the UK and US, and her other stories and poems, The Killin’ Folk, Blue Shades Sweetheart, Vile, Here-After, and Their Prom were all published in various magazines.
“I enjoy stories that shine a light onto the parts of human nature lesser seen; emotive prose full of tension and duplicity.” – Logan
WHERE TO FIND LOGAN
OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR
BARKLEY FIVE OH
A SHORT STORY BY LOGAN KEYS
Copyright © 2017 by Logan Keys
Le Chat Publishing
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons—living or dead—and any events or locals used is entirely coincidental.
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