The Robot

Journey Lee Martin
Aug 25, 2017 · 2 min read

By Journey Lee Martin

I programmed a robot to tell you how much I love you. I daydream as I screw in its bolts how, upon seeing it, you’ll fall in love with me. As I oil its joints, I imagine what color our kids’ eyes will be. I lie awake dreaming of my months of work coming to fruition at our mountain-top marriage. I power the robot on, and it tells me that my love for you runs deeper than the Marianas Trench. I nod approvingly. I already knew this. The robot immediately swivels on its treads and rolls down the hill into town. It begins killing everyone in sight. I watch in horror as my creation flips cars and breaks spines in half. Its claw arms wave wildly as it rolls over the slower onlookers.

“His love is stronger than a thousand rhinoceroses,” it says as it rips the door off of a nearby car.

“He would go to Death Valley and eat the sand for you,” it explains as it tears a man’s arms off.

“He would swallow the sea to bring you the elegant coral from the bottom,” it details as it bludgeons an accountant with a mailbox.

The pedestrians are split between wild fear and romantic appreciation. A mailman screams while several artists gather around, brought to tears by the gruesome display of raw passion. A graphic designer stands in front of police, trying to stop them from hurting my robot, before being thrown through a jewelry shop window. A small group sits together as it beats down a French teacher.

“That’s a metaphor.” They all nod.

I stand in my window frowning at the carnage and destruction I’ve brought upon the town. Its rampage stops when its battery dies and it slowly, unceremoniously stops in the middle of the burning street. Admirers weep and mourn for my robot with solemn hymns while the rest of the town cheers and rips my robot to pieces. When the reverie from destroying the robot fades, the town bears pitchforks and fire and marches to my home to torch my lab. I stand motionless while my years of work erupts in fiery retribution.

“This is fair,” I say as I’m engulfed in flames.

“I deserve this.”

)

Journey Lee Martin

Written by

Bad Poetry, Politics, History, and Culture. Currently Investigating Vaporwave

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