Small charges. Brighter days.
The robot had been charging for forty-three minutes.
He had recovered twelve percent of his battery and all of his dignity.
This was considered excellent progress.
He sat on the floor beside the old charging machine with both legs stretched forward, one hand resting against the metal, the other lying beside him.
A thick yellow cable ran from the machine directly into the glowing red socket in his chest.
Hummmmmm.
The charger vibrated softly.
Its cooling fan turned with the weary determination of something that had been working since before anyone remembered buying it.
The air smelled faintly of warm wires, machine oil, dust, and old rust.
The robot smelled much the same.
Above him, a red warning lamp blinked.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
The robot looked at it.
Then at the charging screen.
Still twelve percent.
He lowered his head.
Apparently electricity could not be hurried by staring at it.
Low Battery
He had not intended to run out.
That morning had begun with eighty-seven percent, which seemed almost extravagant.
There had been boxes to carry.
A loose hinge to tighten.
Three trips across the workshop.
A small wheel that refused to turn unless kicked twice.
Then somebody needed help moving a metal cabinet.
Then somebody else needed help finding the person who had moved the metal cabinet.
By late afternoon, the robot’s movements had become slower.
His eyes dimmed.
His left arm developed a small delay.
Lift.
Pause.
Move.
Pause.
Lower.
This was inconvenient.
He continued anyway.
At nine percent, a red light appeared on his chest.
At six percent, it began blinking.
At three percent, he reached for another box.
His hand closed around one corner.
The box did not move.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
From somewhere behind him came a metallic voice.
“Three.”
The robot turned.
A small red robot was pointing at his chest.
3%.
The robot looked down.
Then at the box.
Then back at the small red robot.
“I saw it.”
The red robot lowered his hand.
The box remained exactly where it was.
After several seconds, the robot released it.
He walked toward the charging station.
Very slowly.
Behind him came three other robots.
The Queue
The first was yellow and square-headed, with two enormous round eyes.
He carried his battery pack against his chest.
The second was blue and cream, slightly newer, with a smooth black face and two bright cyan eyes.
He carried his battery pack too.
The third was red.
Small.
Patient.
Also carrying a battery pack.
They stopped several steps behind the charging robot.
Nobody complained.
The yellow robot looked at the cable.
Then at the screen.
Then at the robot on the floor.
Twelve percent.
He shifted his weight.
Clink.
The blue robot leaned sideways to see around him.
The red robot leaned sideways to see around the blue robot.
Soon all three were tilted at almost exactly the same angle.
The charging robot noticed.
He looked at them.
They immediately stood straight again.
Hummmmmm.
Thirteen percent.
Nobody celebrated.
But the yellow robot’s antenna moved slightly.
A Little More
Time behaved strangely beside the charger.
Fourteen percent took forever.
Fifteen arrived almost immediately.
Sixteen appeared while nobody was looking.
The machine grew warmer.
There was now a sharper smell of heated metal near its vents, mixed with the dry dusty scent of old electronics.
Somewhere inside the casing, a relay clicked.
Tak.
Then another.
Tik.
The robot’s eyes had become brighter.
His fingers moved more easily now.
He tested one hand.
Open.
Close.
Open.
Much better.
Seventeen percent.
He placed his hand around the yellow cable.
There were still boxes in the workshop.
The loose hinge probably needed checking again.
And someone, somewhere, was almost certainly looking for something heavy.
He pulled the cable slightly.
Then stopped.
The three robots behind him were still waiting.
The yellow one had sat down.
The blue one was inspecting a scratch on his battery case.
The little red robot had discovered something fascinating on the ceiling and seemed prepared to study it indefinitely.
Nobody looked annoyed.
Nobody pointed at the clock.
The charging robot loosened his grip.
The cable settled back against the floor.
Hummmmmm.
Eighteen percent.
He leaned against the machine.
His hands rested on his knees.
Nothing happened.
Nineteen percent.
Still nothing happened.
He looked toward the workshop.
A box remained beside the workbench.
Nobody had moved it.
The ceiling remained attached to the building.
The metal cabinet had not escaped.
Twenty percent.
The robot looked at his empty hands.
This was unusual.
He left them empty.
The Red Light
At twenty-one percent, footsteps approached.
A tall green robot appeared from the workshop carrying a clipboard.
He stopped beside the queue.
“Cabinet.”
The charging robot looked up.
The green robot pointed toward the workshop.
“Cabinet needs moving.”
The charging robot looked at the cable attached to his chest.
Then at the green robot.
Then at the three robots waiting behind him.
His hand twitched once toward the plug.
The little red robot was no longer studying the ceiling.
He was looking directly at him.
Nobody spoke.
The charger continued.
Hummmmmm.
Twenty-two percent.
The green robot looked at the screen.
Then at the blinking red lamp above the machine.
“Oh.”
He consulted his clipboard.
“Later.”
He walked away.
The charging robot watched him disappear.
The yellow robot’s antenna gave one small bounce.
The blue robot looked back at his scratched battery case.
The little red robot returned to the ceiling.
Twenty-three percent.
Next in Line
Eventually, the screen showed twenty-five percent.
The robot looked at it.
Then at the workshop.
Then at the line.
He pulled the yellow cable from his chest.
Click.
The red charging light went dark.
The machine gave one final low hum.
Then silence.
For a moment nobody moved.
The robot stood.
His knees made two small metallic pops.
He stepped aside.
The yellow robot’s enormous eyes widened.
He hurried forward, plugged in the cable, and sat exactly where the first robot had been sitting.
The screen flashed red.
CHARGING.
Hummmmmm.
Behind him, the blue robot moved one place forward.
The red robot followed.
The first robot walked back toward the workshop.
He passed the box he had tried to lift earlier.
He stopped.
Looked at it.
His hands moved slightly.
Then he continued walking.
At the far end of the room was a small shelf beneath a window.
He sat on it.
Outside, evening had turned the glass pale yellow.
For several minutes, he did nothing.
From across the workshop came the steady electrical hum.
Then—
“Still three?”
The first robot looked over.
The yellow robot was staring at the charging screen.
He leaned closer.
Waited.
Looked again.
3%.
The first robot watched him.
The yellow robot looked at the screen a third time.
Still three.
The first robot leaned back against the window.
Apparently electricity could not be hurried by staring at it.
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