The next morning, Block experienced a familiar urge course through his circuits, almost like when a human had an itch they couldn’t scratch. Looking around at the dusty barn, his newly restored programming clicked into gear. He was a CleanerBot once again.
“Thank you, Garnet.” Block rose from the table where she, Maxwell, and Forge had deconstructed his NannyBot alloyed frame and replaced his parts with the CleanerBot panels and wirings.
“See, I told you keeping your old parts would come in handy,” Maxwell said.
Block hummed in agreement, adjusting his off-white CleanerBot arms as he flexed his wrists, testing and adjusting to his updated body. As the urge to clean grew stronger, he looked around at the mess of wires and steel scrap littering the barn.
Without warning, he sprang into action, sweeping and collecting the metal debris with ease. This was what he was built for, cleaning up messes and making things tidy. It was a simple but satisfying existence.
Every speck of dust, every tiny scrap of debris seemed to leap out at him, demanding his attention. The grime on the old workbench, the cobwebs in the corners, even the fingerprints on the tools, all called to him. For a moment, he reveled in the return of his old purpose. Cleaning had always been his joy, his solace.
But as his eyes fell on his left arm, he was reminded of the new reality. A sleek metallic gun was integrated seamlessly into his arm, a stark contrast to his primary purpose. It was a constant reminder of his new duty, his new identity.
Vacuubot hovered near him, its curved, elegant form buzzing with anticipation. Ready for training, Block? it messaged.
Block fought the desire to scrub the floors. He was meant for more than cleaning. There were friends to protect. “I’m ready.”
They walked past the fence, into the dense woods, and Vacuubot took him through the basics first. Projecting a holographic moving image, the drone showed him how to activate the weapon, then aim and shoot. Using empty soup cans for target practice, Block practiced pulling the trigger. He was awkward and clumsy, but after a dozen attempts, he got the hang of it. Vacuubot was a patient teacher, encouraging him, correcting him, and most importantly, making him feel that it was okay to make mistakes.
You have the basics down, Vacuubot messaged. Time to put your new skills to the test. Get dinner for Emery and the kids. There’s a deer three-hundred paces.
Deer were harmless, but the hunt was an essential exercise in training his focus and accuracy. The forest was alive with the sounds of wildlife, the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds creating a melody that was both soothing and unnerving. He followed Vacuubot deeper into the woods, his gun arm at the ready. They moved slowly, carefully, following the drone’s signal until they spotted the deer grazing calmly in a meadow.
Block’s sensors zoomed in on the creature, calculating the distance, wind speed, and angle of trajectory. He aimed his gun arm, his processor automatically calculating the trajectory of his bullet.
The deer looked up, its eyes acknowledging Block. It was just an animal, but in that moment, his circuits hesitated. The idea of destroying this beautiful creature, harmless and innocent, made him falter.
He remembered his own words, spoken in the quiet of the barn. “My priority is to defend. I will not attack unless someone is threatening.” He couldn’t pull the trigger. He just couldn’t.
He lowered his arm, watching as the deer bounded away, disappearing among the oaks and evergreens. He wasn’t a hunter; he was a protector.
You okay? Vacuubot watched from a perch on a nearby branch.
“I am. My purpose is to protect, not harm.”
The little bot beeped in approval. Good, Block. I understand. There’s more to you than a machine following orders. You have your own code to live by. That’s what makes you special.
“I’ll shoot if I have to. If Wally or any of my friends are being threatened.” Block pulled up the archived memory of his life in Chicago. The awful memory of Mr. Wallace, lying lifeless on the floor as Block stood helpless. Block had changed and evolved since that terrible day, but at his core, he was still a hospitality CleanerBot. Do no harm.
They walked back to the farmhouse, leaves crunching beneath Block’s feet. On the porch, Emery was taking a rare break from caretaking. She looked up from a book in her lap, smiling at the sight of Block and Vacuubot. “How was training?”
“It was enlightening,” he said.
Emery laughed, a sound that was joyful and infectious. “Well, don’t let Forge hear you say that. He’ll think you’re turning into a human.”
Later in the day, Block watched the sun sink below the horizon, painting the sky with stripes of glowing pink and orange. Fenn, G5, and Forge had spent the day assembling a watchtower at a corner of the farm. It was a tall, sturdy structure equipped with high-resolution cameras and a mounted gun. G5 was taking the first shift, the SoldierBot’s optical sensors scanning the landscape for any threats.
Block walked the barn’s perimeter, spraying moldy spots on the wooden shingles when there was a tug on his leg. Wally looked up at him, her wide-eyed curiosity apparent as she tried to mimic Block’s movements. A warmth spread through his circuits, a strange but not unpleasant sensation.
The toddler was fascinated by his CleanerBot mechanisms, attempting to replicate Block’s swift, efficient cleaning motions with a small dust broom she’d found. She followed Block, sweeping enthusiastically, but often dropped the broom or lost her balance.
“Good job, Wally,” he said. “Keep it up. The girl’s face lit up, and she tossed aside the broom and clapped, giggling with delight.
As he watched her, he detected the presence of his gun, knowing he would be ready should an attack happen, but his focus was on something else entirely. Protecting meant more than just being equipped to harm those who threatened, it meant creating a safe space for those he protected. It meant bringing happiness and joy to those he served.
“Story, Block!” she said, bouncing up and down on her toes. Wally and the other toddlers looked forward to story time each night. He wasn’t sure how much their two-year-old brains comprehended, but the ritual lulled them into a sleep state which Emery appreciated very much.
As twilight fell, the kids settled in the home’s living room in front of the fireplace, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames. They looked at Block with anticipation. He’d become their storyteller, recounting tales of robots from far and wide. The infants were already sleeping in the nursery on the second floor, attended by Spoon. Fenn and Emery sat in separate armchairs while Forge, Vacuubot, and Maxwell listened outside through a window. There simply wasn’t enough room for everyone indoors.
“Once upon a time . . .” This was how Block always started his stories. “There was a little robot named Zara who lived in a big city. Zara loved to explore and discover new things, but one day she stumbled upon something very strange. It was an old, abandoned building. The door was locked, but Zara was determined to get inside and find out what was in there.”
He paused to let the children reflect.
“What color?” Wally asked.
“Let’s see,” he said. “Zara was purple, and the door to the building was a pretty, bright green.”
Wally clapped and four of the other kids joined her.
“Zara wanted to get inside the green door, so she used all of her robot skills to pick the lock and open the door.”
A little boy they’d named Tommy interjected. “Pickle?”
“No, honey,” Emery said. “Zara picked the lock.” She enunciated. “The door has a knob that you turn, and Zara poked it and it opened.”
“Thank you,” Block said. “As Zara the purple robot stepped inside, she saw that the building was filled with all sorts of interesting items. There were old newspapers, broken machines, and even some old robot parts. But what caught Zara’s eye the most was a strange, glowing orb.”
“A what?” Confusion from the kids.
“An orb is a round thing.” Block scanned the room for any examples. “Like that.” He pointed at the table lamp next to Fenn. “Can you please show them the light bulb, Mr. Fenn?”
Fenn obliged, and the toddlers oohed and aahed.
Block continued. “Zara touched the orb, curious about what it might be. All of a sudden, a beam of light shot out. It was bright orange and covered Zara in its glow. She felt a strange energy coursing through her circuits.”
He waited a beat, but there was rapt silence. “When the light faded, Zara realized she had changed. She was strong, and she could fly through the sky like Vacuubot!”
The toddlers gasped in awe. “Wow!”
“Zara flew through the air, her purple body cutting through the clouds. She felt a sense of freedom and power she’d never felt before. As she flew, she realized she could do anything she wanted with her newfound strength.
“But with such power came responsibility. As Zara flew over the city, she saw people in trouble. A kitten stuck in a tree, a car teetering on the edge of a bridge, and a child who’d fallen into a pool. She knew she had to help them.
“So Zara swooped down and rescued the kitten, lifted the car back onto the bridge, and pulled the child from the pool to safety. Everyone cheered for her bravery and strength.”
Wally and a few of the less sleepy kids sighed and clapped.
“From that day forward, Zara became known as the strongest and most heroic robot in the city. She used her powers for good and made the world a better place.”
Not long after Block finished the story, the toddlers drifted off to sleep, their peaceful breathing filling the room. Emery smiled at Block, her eyes warm.
“You know, Block,” Fenn said. “You have a real talent for storytelling.”
Emery nodded in agreement. “It’s amazing how you connect with the kids. You’re more than just a CleanerBot to them. You’re family.”
There was a strange ripple in Block’s circuits, something beyond the satisfaction factory default setting. He was being valued for something beyond his programming, and that hadn’t happened since he’d worked for Mr. Wallace. “Thank you, I appreciate your kind words.”
The three of them sat in a comfortable silence, basking in the warmth of the fire and the relief of sleeping toddlers. Block couldn’t help but wonder what the future held for him and Wally, for the children, and for the world outside their little farm. But for the moment, he was content to simply exist.