ROBERT

R03e.RT

Cast metal and rubber, he’s just under 4 feet tall.
Yellow and red, and his eyes glowed green If I recall.

Unsure of his maker, all he wants is to understand.
He doesn't know his name but RBt. is engraved on his hand.

He had been traveling for years when he came upon a town,
It’s not everyday you see a mechanical boy walking around.

He pulled up some grass and took a seat in the shade.
200 years passed and in the shade is where he stayed.

Under a tree he sat, if he could speak, he chose not.
Over time the tree grew mighty, eventually fusing to the robot.

Grass grew, seasons changed, flowers bloomed and died.
Then one day a young girl sat down by the robots side.

She paid him no mind, amusing herself by playing in the dirt.
Until she noticed the letters engraved in his hand . . “Robert.”

Writing the letters with a stick in the dirt . . . R - B - T.
Not knowing that her spelling or lack there of was the key . .

to unlocking a dormant memory of sad things past
and waking the rotation of sleepy gears at long last.

Revolving to the left, his square head broke the static.
Deep inside, an energy began to pulse automatic.

“Robert, Robert,” the young miss said rhythmically under her breath;
followed by a digital: “Why must there be death?”

A startled gasp and the young girl ran away.
Attached to the tree, the robot was forced to stay.

Through the night he watched the stars and reflected on being alone.
He wonders why God used wires and microchips instead of bone.

The next morning, a familiar face returned.
She doesn’t say much, maybe she was concerned . . .

about a mechanical boy who didn’t mean any harm,
who spoke to a girl he didn’t mean to alarm.

“Robert?” She asked, “Is that your name?”
“Sarah called me Robert, so yes - if it’s all the same.”

“Who’s Sarah”, the little girl asked, taking baby steps nearer.
Hoping maybe the story of Sarah would make things clearer.

Sarah was my friend and now she is dead.
What I thought would give her life, gave her death instead.

Robert began his story the traditional way.
“Once upon a time,” he said, “it began as a normal day.”

I had gone for a walk in search of answers why.
I felt helpless, whether bowing my head or looking to the sky.

When I happened to stumble upon a discarded soul.
This soul gave my life meaning and me, a sense of control.

I kept it in my internal drive, where it glowed warm and unfailing.
It gave me a purpose while healing all that was ailing.

So one day, I went for my usual stroll,
around the town, just me and my soul.

When I saw this girl, around the age of thirteen,
she had pale skin and eyes a bluish green.

She seemed frightened and weary . . .fatigued.
Maybe I should mind my business, but I was intrigued.

Looking up at me with those turquoise eyes,
“Have you seen my soul,” she sighed.

I shuddered; an electronic panic attack.
I had her soul but I couldn’t give it back.

It had given me peace of mind like I never knew,
I still seek forgiveness for the lie I gave into.

“Sorry Sarah, I haven’t seenyour soul.” I said with shame,
“Have we met?” she asked, “how did you know my name?”

In truth, I didn’t know,
perhaps her soul told me so.

I offered her my hand, attempting to ease my mind.
Before then, I never understood the evils of mankind.

What I never considered was how our friendship would grow.
I enjoyed making her laugh, despite the thing she didn’t know.

In time, it was like I replaced the soul she had lost.
But I owed her the truth, no matter the cost.

“Sarah,” I said, “if our friendship is to keep growing stronger . . .
I’m holding something inside that I can’t bear to any longer.”

Kind as always, she told me I could tell her anything.”
But I knew the damage this truth could bring.

Remember when I found you, what you were looking for?
-- “Of course, to this day, the emptiness is hard to ignore.”

I didn’t know how to say it, so I just opened my chest.
Took out her soul and let her feelings do the rest.

She cried at first, because she was overjoyed.
40 years was a long time to live with such a void.

I explained what I had done and the reasons why.
Saying, “I will understand if this is goodbye.”

Lowering my head, I expected the worse.
But rather than anger, I got the reverse.

She hugged me hard, lifting me off my feet,
Kissing my cheek with lips so sweet.

“Let’s never speak of this,” she said “it’s in the past.”
What I reasoned as compassion had been surpassed.

Robert and Sarahs friendship soared for the next 2 decades
When at 73, Sarah’s health began to fade.

As a robot, it’s hard to understand the passing of time,
They don’t have the short ladder of age to climb.

Like their love, Robert presumed Sarah’s soul was unfading.
When he felt rundown, he simply needed upgrading.

“It’s my fault for giving her a used soul”, Robert thought.
Needing to clear his head, Robert went for a walk.

He never returned, unable to contend.
With the fateful loss of his only friend.

Nearly 300 years later, Robert sits under a tree.
Telling the story to a sleepy girl who sits on his knee.

She falls asleep with the tale as the sun falls behind the land.
Robert slowly powers down while delicatly holding her hand.

That evening, worried parents come looking.
Their daughter had not shown up for mom’s cooking.

Dad finds her sleeping under a tree with an archaic metal sculpture.
A primitive robot, a remnant of an extinct culture.

Gently, he lifts her, not wanting to wake her from the slumber.
But she’s stuck, her hand trapped within a model number.

Mom gets worried, asks, “Lorie, are you okay.’
“Yes Mommy. Robert spoke today.”

“Can I get some help over here?” Dad shouts.
“I don’t know how she got in this mess, but we gotta get her out!”

The police show and then a man with a cutting machine.
“Don’t worry ma’m. This will slice through metal clean.”

Sawing through Robert’s wrist, Lorie cries.
She had seen metal come to life before her eyes.

“We should have destroyed this thing long ago.” one man says.
This is one big pile of tetanus is what this is.

And this tree is rotten, eaten up with termites.
With a couple chops, it’ll be firewood tomorrow night.

Whether Robert chose to remain silent, I’m not for sure.
Maybe he had all of the life he was willing to endure.

Maybe his souless battery had finally run it’s course.
Or maybe he had finally -- come to terms with his remorse.

Normally robots wouldn’t go to heaven; the promised land.
But sometimes true love runs deeper than planned.

-end