Toy opened her eyes to the sound of the soft rains on the tin roof of the shed. She stopped to process the sound for two-point-five seconds before resuming the daily protocol.
Ten years, two months, twenty days, six hours, forty five seconds ago.
She decided she should take a sample to test the acidity sometime during the daily routine. It was unusual, and unusual demanded a change to the program.
At exactly seven-thirty, she set the kitchen table for two. At eight, she removed the place settings and loaded the pristine chinaware into the washer, set the timer and activated the unit.
At nine, she exited the domicile to maintain the greenery. Noticing that the roses in the corner plot were melting in the rain, she moved them inside for the day. She took a water sample from the loam around the base of the bush, and analyzed the PH level. The water was unusual, and unusual demanded a change to the program.
At ten-thirty, she retrieved the Thursday disc from the library and inserted it into the slot in the back of her neck. Thursday was Master day. Mistress had bridge with the Cardinal Club. Approaching the main computer terminal, she entered the sequence and spread herself on the dining room table. Waiting.
Thirty seconds later, his voice filled the room. "Fucking slut. On the fucking dining room table?!" She accessed her memory files. Twenty-one years, six months, eight days. "What a fucking whore! A waste of good spare parts. You don't even have the decency to put clothes on before you take them off."
He approached her, his organ rising ever closer to ninety degrees with every taunt. "Can't believe we spent so fucking much on a bunch of wires and plastic." Smiling, he pointed to the cameras stationed around the room. "I'm only fucking you so Nancy and I can share a few laughs later. She fucking loves to watch."
Nine seconds later, he was on her.
Exactly one minute and twenty-two seconds later, he was finished. "Hell," he said, between fits of wheezing and coughing, "I hope to hell this holocompany can do what they say. Fucking scammers."
Then, as abruptly as he came, he left. Toy proceeded to the library and returned the Thursday disc to its sleeve.
At precisely noon, she retrieved a single setting from the dishwashing unit and placed it at the head of the kitchen table. At twelve-thirty, she returned it to the unit, but did not activate it. Mistress whispered somewhere in her memory. "Conservation, dear. Conservation. We only have so much water on the planet."
At two, she pressed the button for the automated carpet cleaning system and stood next to the divan and watched as it went this way and that across the living room, finally leaving the deep white shag with perfect waves all pointing north, towards the video wall unit.
She opened the door to the communications room ten minutes before four. The rain was unusual and unusual demanded a change to the program, even if it only meant five minutes. Following protocol, she activated the beacon and sent out the signal. Exactly at four.
"Hello. This is Nancy Applewhite. Is anyone out there? Please? Someone, anyone, please be out there. My husband is gravely ill. I really don't know what to do. I was never trained for this. Everyone else is gone. He can't even...he can't even come to the microphone. The power grid is out and we only have our residential generator. Please... I don't feel all that well myself."
As the transmission ceased, Toy bent her head down and stared at the console. Fourteen years, seven months, nine hours, ten minutes, fifteen seconds ago. She took her thumb and ran it over the spot where the blood had been. It wasn't there anymore, of course, but she rubbed her thumb across it again.
At six-thirty, she removed two of the good china settings from the kitchen cabinet and placed them at each end of the dining room table. At seven, she placed them in the washing unit and turned it on. At seven-thirty, she removed them from the washer and put them away in the cabinet.
When the clock rang nine, she exited the rear of the residence and walked slowly across the lawn. She noted that the rain had stopped and logged it, together with the reminder that she put the roses back out in the morning.
Bending down beside two stone tablets set a few feet apart, she gently pushed aside the branches and leaves that had fallen in the wind and rain. She cocked her head as an unusual sound pierced the usual silence that accompanied this particular part of the daily protocol. She looked up.
To see lights.
Dim lights, but lights nonetheless. Not stars. Not the moon. Not Venus nor Mars. Her eyes were sensitive enough and her program sophisticated enough to know the difference.
Protocol demanded that she exit to the shed to shut down for the night. But the lights were unusual, and unusual demanded a change to the program.
She laid down between the two headstones and closed her eyes.
---to the Master, Ray Bradbury, may he live long enough to enthrall our great-grandchildren---
WZB
