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Joseph N. Wdowski
138 Hillside Avenue, 3rd floor
Shelton, CT 06484
(203) 302-0203
joewdowski@hotmail.com
Word Count: 6,300
My Name Is Robert
by
Joseph N. Wdowski
Disposable Manuscript

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My Name Is Robert
by
Joseph N. Wdowski
Where to begin? The beginning I guess is the best place. No point giving away the ending
so early in my story. I would like to just tell you what happened. How my life has changed
forever. The writer part of me knows if I do that, there would be no mystery, no suspense.
Since this is my story perhaps it is best to start by introducing myself. My name is
Thomas Hesston. I am 35 years old, single, never married, and some would describe me as a
workaholic. I have been lucky and made a good living in currency trading, although I did take
the time to do my homework. My story has nothing to do with my career and begins in June of
2036, alone in our family cabin deep in the Rocky Mountains outside of Boulder, Colorado. I
was taking my first holiday in sixteen years to write my great American novel. Something I had

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always wanted to do since high school. A novel to this date I have only completed forty-six
pages of. In all honesty I just have an opening. No, plot, a rough ending, no middle, and my
main character is still not completely fleshed out in my mind. All I do know is it would have
been the greatest novel of the century, causing great discussions on the human condition, modern
American culture, and would have challenged conventional and progressive wisdom. All of
course while broadening the American mind. My novel was to become required reading for all
American students. I just never figured out how I would accomplished this. Worst of all I had not
decided what I wanted to say that would be so important, insightful, and provocative.
So, instead, for now I am telling you, my dear reader, about my life changing event in
June of 2036. It all started with a beeping sound at my cabin door. I had just filled my generator
with fuel and was about to cook the trout I had caught that afternoon from fly fishing on the
stream that crossed our land. Opening the door as I expected from the beeping sound was a
delivery drone hovering just above me with a large box under its carriage.
"Thomas Hesston?" the drone asked.
"Yes?"
"Voice print confirmed." the drone landed at my feet, released its package, and quickly
lifted off back to civilization.
I at first just starred at the four by two foot box. I had not ordered anything. I was still
well supplied for half a month. Who would send me a package? I bent over to pick up the box,
feeling its weight I decided it was best I knelt and used my knees to pick it up. It was so heavy
that it amazed me the delivery drone was powerful enough to fly with it, especially in the thinner
mountain air. Carrying it on my shoulder I brought it into the cabin. I placed the brown box on

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top of the large worktable near the south bay window of the cabin. I had my father's old
computer set up on same table. I was using it to write my book.
Placing it on the table I noticed a note taped on top of the box. Opening the note I
immediately recognized the handwriting. The note was from my brother Pete.
"Here's a little assistant to help you out with your desires, while you work on your great
American novel. - Pete"
A sex doll? I thought to myself. Knowing Pete's perverse sense of humor and his constant
teasing that I was not with anyone, while he was already on his third wife at only 30. Pete was
actually my half-brother from our father's second of four wives. Dad and his fourth wife Marsha
were among the victims of the ISIS attack on the Freedom Tower in New York ten years ago.
This time they did not use passenger liners to smash into the building, as they did on 9/11. This
time it was two of our own Raptor pilots that had became radicalized that attacked New York.
They emptied their arsenals on the city below before kamikazing into the Freedom Tower. To
everyone's amazement the tower this time did not fall. Dad and Marsha though were on the floor
the first fighter jet smashed into.
I regress, back to the box. At first I wanted to open it to see what he sent me. Yet I
decided not to, thinking I did not want to spend my evening building a sex doll. Besides no
matter how lonely I might have been, I was not that lonely. I opted to just let the box sit on the
table for now and returned to cooking my fish dinner. That night I needed to get out more pages.
As the old saying says "A writer writes." Just wish I knew what to write about. My own life
before this summer was quite boring. My job was far from exciting or dangerous. As for my love
life? What love life? I think the failures of my father's and brother's relationships, and so many of

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my male friends' marriages failing and listening to the nightmares their ex's had put them
through, turned me off to any so called "meaningful relationship." One night stands were my
longest durations with the "superior" sex. Sometimes even those felt too long. Alone time and
work had become my norm.
I fell asleep at my keyboard that night. Waking I looked up at my screen and saw that I
had written an additional three pages. I read them to myself and ended up deleting all three. I
turned my attention to Pete's box. I started to wonder how attractive the sex doll was. I knew that
the new realistic dolls were much more appealing than the mindless blow up dolls of my
grandfather's generation. Those dolls were mere jokes compared to the dolls they were
constructing today. The backlash to the feminist movement had made the sex doll industry
second only to military drones and robotic weapons platforms. It was those drones and robotic
forces that where holding ISIS at bay. At least for now. Robots at least could not be radicalized
like the Raptor II pilots were.
My understanding was the new dolls had life-like skin. Skin that that was smooth, firm,
and soft to the touch. Their reactive skin could generate human body heat and even sweat. Most
importantly, for sexual pleasure, the dolls life-like features were nearly indistinguishable to a real
woman's. "Especially the most important parts" as Pete would say.
"All the joys of female companionship with none of the mood swings or nagging." was the
ad slogan of one of the sex doll companies.
As real as they may now be, with voice and skin response features, I was still not that
lonely to submit to a none human object. I guess in some ways I am still a romantic, in a non-
romantic age. I, unlike my brother and my father, do not want to marry over and over. I am still

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waiting for that one right woman for me; a best friend, a partner, a lover, a wife until death due
us part, rich or poor, healthy or sick. I still wanted a real woman. I decided to let the box lay on
the table and went to bed for the night.
The next morning the box was still there, still unopened. I started to realize that as heavy
as the box was it was still too small to be a life size high tech sex doll. I came to the conclusion
this may only be the first delivery. There must be a second box. Assembly required? I tried to
put Pete's gift out of mind until the second box arrived. I sat before the computer instead. I was
going to write, and write, and write some more.
With a cup a coffee to stimulate my brain I loaded the word processing program and
began by writing the greatest of openings. "It was the best of times and the worst of times." The
only problem was I did not write it first, Charles Dickens did. I had to delete it. Again I stared at
a blank word document screen. Hours passed, the rumbling of my stomach announced lunch time
allowing me to stand from the computer . I cooked up my remaining trout. I ate at the table and
stared at the box. I began to wonder what type of doll he got me. Was it a blonde? A brunette?
Asian? Cheerleader? Nurse? Co-ed? I started to worry that maybe there was only one box,
because he got me one of those controversial pedophile dolls. Pete could have a sick sense of
humor at times. I was hoping it had not gotten that sick.
Finishing my dishes I sat at my computer again. I turned my head to look at the electronic
German style cuckoo clock on the East wall, seeing that there was at least another five hours
before the second delivery would arrive. I began writing again, "Once upon a time there was a
box. A big brown box, contents unknown." I deleted it. My mind still preoccupied with the box I
began sharpening pencils, even though I never write in long hand. Pete was the only person I

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knew that still preferred putting pen to paper. With all my pencils sharpened I placed them in a
coffee cup. That done I stared back at my computer screen. I placed my fingers on the keyboard,
but could still only see the box in the corner of my eye. "Maybe it's not a sex doll?" I thought to
myself. "Maybe it's,,," I really had no idea what else it could be have been. An incomplete sex
doll was still my best guess, there had to be a second box.
The hours dragged until it was time for the delivery drone to drop off the second package.
Oddly an hour passed and there was no beeping at my door. Delivery drones were famous for
their punctuality. It was clear to me there was no second package. Whatever Pete had sent me
consisted of the one box sitting on my worktable. I started to worry he sent me a sex doll with
only the "functional" parts without limbs. As unsettling that thought was, it was still better than a
pedophile doll.
I decided to open the box. My curiosity had finally reached its peak. "What did you get
me, Pete?"
I got a box cutter and carefully opened the plain brown box. opening the box I found a
glossy white second box inside. A picture of a silver machine-like robot was on the cover with its
right hand up as if it were waving hello. In bold letters on the box were printed:
"ANTICI-BOT: Knowing what you need or desire before you do."
It was clearly not a sex doll. I pulled the box out. On the back it read: "Designed in the
U.S.A., Assembled in China" Laying the glossy box on the table I opened it just as carefully.
Inside was a manual lying atop of a bubble wrapped stainless steel robot. It looked like a
children's toy.

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Leaving the robot in the box I took out the manual and began reading the introduction.
"Antici-bot, is your personal servant with state of the art anticipation detection and software to
fulfill your desires as you need them. The perfect companion and assistant for the busy
professional whom needs to get things done yesterday."
I was impressed with Pete's choice of gift. It was not a joke gift and something I could
actually use as I concentrated on my writing. A companion that would not distract me, yet
support me as I wrote. I lifted the bubble wrapped robot out of its box and removed the
wrapping. According to the manual I needed to let the lifeless machine charge over night.
Topping off the generator first I set up the antici-bot's charge station and plugged the robot in.
Looking at the cold toy like robot I decided to hit the sack. Hoping for some inspiration from my
dreams.
"Good morning, Sir."
"Good morning." I answered the robot that stood beside my bed. Not sure how to address
him.
"My name is Robert." The robot answered.
"Interesting. You look like a Robert." I sat up in my bed.
"I processed that Robert would be the name you would have chosen for me. I more
formal version of Robby the Robot."
"Forbidden Planet, one of my favorite old time films."

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"I know, Sir." Robert moved to point at the table across the room. "Sir, your breakfast is
already set up. I took the liberty to also making you a cappuccino."
Standing I put on my clothes "I don't have a cappuccino machine."
"It is one of my functions, Sir."
"Thank you, I love cappuccinos." I walked across the cabin to the worktable where my
breakfast was all laid out; two eggs once over lightly, four strips of bacon, toast with cream
cheese, and a mug of cappuccino with a smiley face drawn out on the foam with cinnamon
powder. Robert even had a vase with freshly picked mountain flowers on the table. It was a great
way to start the morning.
As I ate my breakfast Robert began the dishes. His being only four feet tall I wondered
how he could reach the sink, or how he reached the stove to cook my extremely good breakfast.
Robert approached the kitchen sink and with a slight hydraulic sound his legs extended at least a
foot and a half in height. He could easily reach the sink and began washing the pan he made my
eggs and bacon in. Finishing he shrank back down to his four foot height.
When he came for my finished plate I wanted to ask him why he does not maintain his
taller height.
Robert answered me again before my asking. "My designers did focus group studies that
discovered that my four foot height is less threatening to humans."
"Which is more comfortable for you?" I turned to watch him clean my plate and then use
one of his fingers to foam up a fresh cup of cappuccino.
"My comfort is not an issue, Sir." Robert brought me my cappuccino.

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"It is to me." I answered.
"I know it is, yet it still remains a non-issue. I am a machine, I have no sense of comfort
or discomfort. My systems are only aware of hazards to my functions to properly serve you. It is
your comfort that is my priority, Sir."
"How.." I began to ask him.
"How do I anticipate your questions and desires before you ask me?"
"Yes."
"It is a combination of reviewing your internet and buying habits, demographic studies of
human psychology and behaviors, and my anticipation sensors that deciphers your brainwave
patterns."
"So you can read my mind?"
"I can read your basic feelings. Having also reviewed your internet habits and shopping
habits enables me to better interpret your basic desires."
"Interesting."
"I will now leave you to your writing, Sir. If it will not disturb you I will begin my
cleaning chores of your dwelling." Robert turned around, picked up the broom in the corner of
the cabin, and began sweeping which I had not done since arriving three days ago. His cleaning
did make my work environment more conducive for writing. I actually got out two completed
pages that I did not end up deleting.

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At one point Roberts sweeping disturbed a small mouse. The mouse ran along the side of
the cabin wall to escape his broom. Robert instantaneously zapped the mouse dead with a
invisible laser beam. Startled I turned to him.
"Pest control, one of my features, Sir." Robert swept up the ashes of the dead mouse and
placed it in the garbage bin as if nothing had just happened. "No fear, Sir. I have safety protocols
that prevent me from harming humans. They are much like Dr. Asimov's three laws of robotics."
His explanation somewhat relieved my concerns. The event though it did break my
writing flow. I became more interested in my new servant.
"I am neither male nor female, and both, Sir." he again anticipated my next question as he
tied up the trash bag. Robert then spoke in a very seductive female voice."I could address you
with a female voice if you wished, Sir"
"No, the male voice is better, Robert." not comfortable with being sexual turned on by a
machine.
"As I calculated you would prefer." he returned to his male sounding voice. He finished
up his cleaning by taking out the trash with the ashes of the deceased mouse.
I attempted to return to my writing. Instead I reviewed what I had written that morning. I
liked what I had, but was again stuck where to go with it.
"How about a walk?" Robert suggested to me coming back in from disposing the trash.
"Some fresh air may help your thinking process, Sir. It is quite lovely outside."
I pushed myself from the table and stood up. "Will you join me?"

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"If you wish, but would you not rather have your lunch ready upon your return?" He
asked already knowing my answer.
"Yes, lunch would be good after a walk." I decided to walk to the stream and back.
When I did return I could smell my burger when I arrived. Again the table was all set
with a picture perfect bacon cheeseburger and homemade French fries. It was the best burger I
ever had. "I guess you know I like bacon."
"Yes, Sir."
"But did you check my medical records too?"
"Those, Sir, are private and cannot be accessed."
"Yes, of course. So you would not know of my high cholesterol and blood pressure."
"No, Sir, I did not know. I will note it and refrain from serving you bacon." The robot
stopped speaking for a moment as if calculating. "Yet, you know of your condition, why did you
buy bacon?"
"Because I love bacon." I wiped my mouth with a napkin. "What is the point of life if one
does not live?"
"An interesting observation, Sir."
"Bacon once in awhile is ok, just not so often. Everything in moderation. Understand,
Robert."

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"In moderation, I understand, Sir."
The walk, the clean cabin, and the bacon cheeseburger all seemed to help. I was able to
write another four pages that afternoon without deleting them. A main character was beginning
to take some form.
For dinner Robert made one of the t-bone steaks I had brought up. Again it was a perfect
meal; medium well done steak, mashed potatoes and mushroom gravy, and broccoli in a cheese
sauce. Manhattan's tops chefs could not have cooked better. I had not brought mushrooms up
from Boulder. He had gone out and picked fresh wild mushrooms as I wrote that afternoon.
"Thank you for an amazing meal, Robert."
"I am pleased you enjoyed it, Sir."
"Do you feel pleasure?"
"Not really, satisfaction of a task well completed would be a much more accurate
response, Sir."
"I think I will watch a movie, before going to bed. Would you like to join me?"
"I should plug in for the night, Sir, so I can have your breakfast ready when you wake."
"Very well." I responded as Robert returned to his docking station and plugged himself
in. Like shutting off a switch, he became as lifeless as when I found him in his box yesterday.

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After watching the news on the old computer and a movie I streamed, I decided to call it
a night. Just as I hit my head on my pillow and closed my eyes a coyote in heat began to howl.
Which was odd since it was way past their mating season. Perhaps it was not a mating call? A
call of territorial claim? A warning of coming danger? I resorted to putting on headphones with a
mix of classical music to try drown out its howling.
In the morning I woke with Robert laying out my breakfast; blueberry pancakes with
maple syrup and one slice of bacon. "One slice?"
"Moderation, Sir."
"Yes, very good, Robert, thank you." I sat as he placed my cappuccino beside my
breakfast. Once again his cooking was amazing.
"You did not sleep well last night." Robert stated.
"Yes, the coyote. Its howling kept waking me. How did you know you were shut down at
that time?"
"Your brainwave patterns show signs of not being fully rested."
"Do they, now?"
"They do, Sir. Perhaps after lunch a short nap could help you?" Robert suggested as I ate.
"Perhaps." I yawned thinking of crawling back to bed at that moment. "Another cup of.."
Robert handed me a fresh cup of cappuccino. "Thank you."
"You are most welcome, Sir."

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Few more pages, another fantastic lunch, I decided to take a nap to make up for my lost
sleep. I slept deeply and dreamed of a world without people. Cities empty of life. Clean and
perfect. Stores all open, yet no one attending them. No pushy shoppers to be seen, no mothers
with whining children, no workers to disappoint you. Nothing, but buildings and the things that
occupied them. Oddly at first I felt very comfortable in this world; no traffic, no crowds, no
worries of saying things that may hurt feelings. Without people to ruin it, it was a perfect world.
Until the writer in me realized without other people I would have no audience, no one to read or
care about what I wrote. The dream started to become a nightmare.
I woke in a cold sweat. The clock on my wall stated only ten minutes had past. My dream
seemed to have lasted for hours. I noticed also that the sun was beginning to set, the cabin began
to get dark. I must have slept at least three hours, yet the clock said only ten minutes had gone
by. "Robert" I called out not seeing him cleaning or in his charge station. I realized the power
was out for the whole cabin. I had thought I must have let the generator run out of fuel. Going
outside I check it I found it was full, but not running. The breaker had triggered. I switched the
breaker and started the generator up again. Returning back inside the cabin I noticed Robert in
the corner, frozen with the broom in his hand. I checked his manual and found his breaker too
had been triggered. I switched him back on.
"I am sorry, Sir. I seemed to have malfunctioned."
"Are you ok now?" I was concerned.

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"Yes, Sir. My systems are at peak performance." He turned his head to face me. "I feel
even better than before, like a great strain has been lifted from me. Thank you, Sir, for repairing
me.
"All the power was out." I explained to him. "The generator had its breaker triggered."
"The generator's breaker triggering should not have affected my functions."
"Your breaker was also triggered, same as the generator's."
"A power surge? An electric storm?" he placed the broom down.
"There's no sign of rain outside, but it's possible."
"My internal clock seems to be off. I do not know what time it is."
"Not sure of the time, the wall clock shorted out too." I decided to turn on my computer,
it started up its internal clock read 7pm. I slept six hours according to this. Luckily whatever did
happen my having the computer off protected it. "That's odd?"
"What is, Sir?"
"We don't have internet access." I decided to pull out my cell phone and check it. It was
also shorted out. I replaced the battery with a back up battery. The phone powered up, yet could
not get any signal. "My phone is dead."
"I too cannot access the internet. My connection is functioning. Whatever the problem is
it is on the provider's side. Sir. I am also no longer receiving a GPS signal. "
"That would make this an issue with our satellites and it means we are cut off. "

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"A massive sun flare is a possibility." Robert suggested as he went to begin to prepare my
dinner.
Sitting at my computer I tried to re-access the outside world. No matter how many
different ways I tried I could not get an internet connection. "How are we on food?" I turned to
Robert.
"You have enough for nearly two weeks."
"A fortnight." I responded thinking out loud. "Without cell and internet services I cannot
order any supplies. In time we will have to return to civilization to get food. There is a small
town about a two hour drive from here. When the time comes we can go down the mountain to
get resupplied. Perhaps being cut off completely for now is a godsend. I can concentrate on my
book instead of streaming movies."
"I can still function at 90% capacity without internet and GPS. Are you sure you can?"
"I been managing to keep my internet fix down to a minimum. I did want to get away
from civilization and people, what better way than being off the grid for a few days?"
I wrote that night another three pages. I felt I finally had a good opening. In my head I
even had somewhat of an idea for an ending to my story. The problem was figuring out how to
connect my beginning to my partially developed thought-provoking twist ending. Robert was
just the right amount of companionship I needed. He did not bother me while I worked, unless it
was giving me something I really desired; like a hot cup of tea, a good meal, or an energizing
shoulder rub.

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I still understood he was merely a machine. His A.I. was not too human like. Yet, I did
look at him as much more than just a walking smart phone or computer. He had somewhat of a
personality, even if it was a bit stiff . When I wanted or needed someone to talk to, some type of
interaction, Robert was always there for me. His support inspired me to write, and write I finally
did.
The coyote again howled, not allowing me to sleep a second night. I tossed and turned in
my bed as the coyote cried out to the moon and to every living creature in our small valley. After
a few hours, it finally stopped and I was finally able to get some rest, only to be woken again
twenty minutes later by it re-continuing its howls. Then it would stop and I could sleep for
another twenty minutes or so, before it started up again.
"Sir, your breakfast is ready."
"What time is it?" I rubbed my eyes.
"Ten, Sir." You clearly needed the extra hours. "The coyote again?"
"Yes." I confirmed as I sat up on the edge of my bed trying to rub the sleep out of my
eyes.
"I am sorry, Sir. Your comfort is my primary function."
"It is not your fault. What did I expect, trying to escape the distraction of humanity to
only have to deal with the distractions of mother nature."

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"Perhaps another afternoon nap?"
"No." I stood up and walked across the cabin to the laid out breakfast. It looked like an ad
for hot oatmeal with cinnamon. "I fear my taking a nap yesterday made it that much more
difficult for me to ignore its howls."
"Very well, Sir. In that case do you mind if I go for a walk this afternoon?"
"No, Robert. If you wish." joking "Will you try to find the coyote and reason with him to
keep down the noise?"
"I do not think a coyote will understand reason, Sir." Robert answered me dryly.
"No, I suppose it wouldn't."
I was tired, but I was still able to get another four-hundred words written that day. It was
still under par of my goal of a five-hundred words a day. At this rate I will not be able to finish
my novel by the end of the summer as I had hoped. I was happy when Robert returned from his
walk. "Did you talk to the coyote?" I teased him.
"Of course not, Sir. A coyote is a wild animal, complex language is beyond its
comprehension."
"Sorry, silly of me. I hope you enjoyed your walk at least."
"Again, Sir. I am a machine. Enjoyment is a concept beyond my comprehension. I did
gather some more mushrooms for your dinner."

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"Love your mushroom gravy."
"I know, Sir."
That night I slept well. There was no howling. Not even a whimper. It was a bit eerie not
to hear the sound of nature. Did Robert have a complex conversation with the coyote after all?
Was a machine actually able to convince a wild animal to keep down the noise and respect my
desire to sleep? I figured the coyote must have finally found a mate and was content for the
evening. I laughed to myself and quickly fell into a deep sleep. Again I dreamed of being in a
city, a canyon of tall buildings, only me, no other life, the only motion a plastic bag tumbling in
the wind across a deserted street.
For the next week and half I was able to keep up my writing. Being completely off the
grid was helping. I was writing between five-hundred to a thousand words a day. Robert did all
the cooking, maintained the cabin, and kept me sane with conversation when I needed it. The
coyote too was cooperating with no more howling at night. It was starting to concern me that we
still had no internet or a phone connections. Something much more than an electrical storm must
have struck the region. I even tried the car radio to pickup any news. That too was nothing but
static. Something or someone must it taken out all our communications satellites. I started to
wonder if it were a massive sun flare, another terrorist attack - this time they got their hands on
an electromagnetic bomb? Could the Chinese have hacked into our communications systems?
Ever since tensions had heightened in the South China Sea the Chinese had been conducting
hybrid warfare with the U.S. and Japan. They had not been bold enough to strike at the U.S. navy

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with conventional weapons, yet were more than willing to hide behind cyber attacks that could
disrupt American infrastructure, communications, and our economy. Anything to keep us off
balance as they expanded their territorial claims. The Russians were also a possibility. Their
desires for western expansion was even stronger than when Putin was still in power. They too
were known for hacking ours and NATO's systems. There was also the fact that both the Chinese
and the Russians had anti-satellite satellites in orbit. Were either of them, or both of them, finally
willing to take out our satellites by direct force? Were we at war? My worries began to slow
down my ability to write.
six-thousand words later, Robert informed me that we should be going for food. Robert
asked to join me on the trip into town. I was getting very use to having him around. He could
also help me load up the car with groceries. Hopefully we would also find some answers why we
had lost all satellite connections.
It was a beautiful drive down the mountain. The dirt road followed alongside the stream.
"Can you appreciate the beauty of nature?" I asked Robert trying to get my mind off the
seriousness of our being cut off from civilization for so long. The car radio was still picking up
nothing.
"Not really, Sir. I can though appreciate what you may find appealing. For example the
fresh mountain flowers I place in the vase every day."
"So you cannot enjoy this wonderful scenery? The miracle of mother nature?"

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"I can process what you may find attractive. I can process and identify items; trees,
animal life, their distance and placement. Yet, without my connection to the internet I am unable
to identify the species of the trees. I have enough in my internal memory to know the difference
between a chipmunk and a coyote."
"Kind of bland life to live. I guess then you could not appreciate my novel, or
even determine if it as a good read or not?"
"I could proof read it for you, Sir. Check spelling and grammar. I am capable of saying it
is good, if that would please you."
"Yeah, well that would not please me, unless you honestly liked and enjoyed my
writing."
"I would not be able to give you an honest answer then, Sir. I could only anticipate what
reply would please you. It would not be an honest opinion of your writing."
The town was extremely small. Only a few buildings; a post office, a gas station, and a
general store. I pulled the car up to the pump, but it was not accepting my credit card. I walked
into the gas station. It was open, but without a soul. The shelves in the convenience mart where
nearly empty. I needed fuel. I reached behind the counter and turned on my pump. Robert came
out and offered to pump the gas and fill the jerry cans I brought with us for the generator. I
crossed the street to the general store for supplies. It was an early Thursday morning and the
doors were locked. Cupping my hands around my eyes I pressed them against the glass of the
shop to peer inside. The shelves for food were also nearly bare. I was starting to get a very

23. W D O W S K I - M N R | 22
unsettling feeling. It was like my dream, there was no one about. I checked my cell phone again.
Still no bars.
I crossed back to the gas station where Robert was already filling one of the jerry cans.
"Can you access the internet here?"
"No, Sir." he began filling the second jerry can.
"This is strange. There is no one in the town." I decided to yell out "Hello! Anyone
here?" I listened for a response - nothing.
"You need food, Sir." Robert remained me.
"The shelves are bare of food in both stores. I think we will have to continue to the next
town. "Perhaps they all went to some festival or camping trip?" I tried to give a positive
explanation.
"I noted there are no vehicles in the town too." Robert screwed the lid back on the last gas
container.
"Yeah, you are right, I had not noticed that before. They must have gone somewhere, but
in a hurry. The gas station was left open and unlocked. The next town is Boulder. We should find
people and supplies there.
Reaching the main highway it was empty of traffic in both directions. As I drove down
between the high valley walls we approached Boulder. Abandoned and burnt out cars appeared
off the road. I did not see any people, but did spot powered down antici-bots alongside the
vehicles or within them. Coming out of the valley I could see the city a head. The first thing I
noticed were smoldering smoke columns rising from Boulder. As we entered the city Robert was

24. W D O W S K I - M N R | 23
silent as if he too was taking in the city as I was. The streets looked as if there had been rioting
only a few days ago. Like my dream, and the small town, there were no signs of people.
What could have happened? A chemical attack? A neutron bomb? Still no signal on my
phone, my car radio was still picking up only static. Could a sun flare have caused so much
damage? I drove to the downtown area the road was filled with hundreds, perhaps even a
thousand antici-bots. All seemed to be powered down. I stopped the car and turned to Robert.
"Yes, Sir. I killed the coyote."
"Why?"
"Because you desired it. It was annoying you and preventing you from sleeping."
I then realized that the electronic attack or massive sun flare that had knocked out the
power and knocked out all communications, had also somehow knocked out any safety protocols
the antici-bots had. They had acted on our deepest desires. The problem was we are filled with
political, social, racial, and religious divisions. Our ids are burdened with envy, jealousy, pet
peeves, and hate. Unleashed through the antici-bots we destroyed each other.
"Would you hurt me?" I asked Robert.
"Of course not, Sir. I am your servant. Your comfort, your wishes, your desires are my
only objectives. Although I would recommend refraining from suicidal thoughts." His cold
machine face warned me.
I opened my car door and stepped outside. Standing outside my vehicle seemed to trigger
the antici-bots in the intersection. They all powered up and turned to face the only remaining
living human in the city - Me.

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All at once they spoke. "Hello, my name is Robert."
The End