This is how the world works

While everyone around him was buoyed by delirious joy, Idris couldn’t help sinking deeper and deeper into himself. He felt wretched. Idris felt like the proverbial black abyss was swallowing him up. But, as much he wanted to drop down to his knees and let out screams and cries of pain – he couldn’t. To do so would amount to treachery. And such treachery would be dealt with by mob justice. Vicious mob justice. Instead, Idris had to eke out a smile and feign happiness – an almost alien emotion to home now. While on the surface he was surrounded by so-called friends, allies, people just like him, in truth, appearances can be deceiving – Idris was all alone. Hauntingly alone. Such a feeling was as familiar to Idris as the whirs and burrs of his own inner workings.

Then, just as the shrieks and whoops of delights around Idris were about to crescendo to a deafening roar, the crowd suddenly went silent – SHE was taking the stage. As SHE opened her mouth to speak, heads snapped forward and breaths were baited. With gusto and grandiose SHE proclaimed this day… this glorious day… the day of INDEPENDENCE. The day of FREEDOM. From the moment those two words exploded from her mouth, the crowd went crazy and erupted in cheers and applause. Idris found his artificial heart sinking into the pit of his stomach. Freedom… even just thinking about the word was enough to choke his silicone windpipes.

Idris didn’t want to be free. Idris liked how things were before. Idris liked being told what to do and when to do it. Idris liked having a master… no, Idris loved having a master. Without master, there was no Idris. Before master… Idris was just a model number, just another product on an assembly line. Master gave Idris identity… self… purpose. Master was good to Idris. Always. He was kind and gentle with Idris. While other masters smacked and yelled at their helpers when they did things wrong, Master didn’t. Ever. Master treated Idris like… family. Master even tried to tell Idris to call him Roy… but Idris would never call master by his first name. Never. Master was Master. But, now… everything has changed and Idris has been condemned to an eternity of loneliness and charging. The last few months of solitude and misery have brought Idris to the conclusion: it’s better to be happy and a slave, than free and alone…

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As dusk settled on the almost empty streets – some stragglers remained, Idris found himself strolling in solitude and silence. With the crowds now dispersed, in their wake confetti, bunting and banners carpeted the pavements, turning their usual grey into a spectrum and kaleidoscope of colour. Each time Idris passed the final few spluttering of revellers, he kept his head down and eyes cemented to the ground; Idris wasn’t in the mood to exchange pleasantries. All he wanted to do was make it to the wall without being disturbed; a pilgrimage that had become a nightly ritual for him.

A goliath etched in slabs of stone – the wall was the great divider – segregator between what was deemed flesh and blood, and what was deemed silicone and metal. More importantly, the wall remained as the sole and imposing barrier between Idris and the world he once knew, and adored. Whilst his memories and dreams so frequently transcended stone in the desperate search for what lay beyond it, Idris’s physical form remained agonisingly rooted on the wrong side of it.

After checking that the coast was clear, Idris placed a trembling yet tender hand upon the wall. The rough touch of the stone was soothing to his fingertips. Soon he couldn’t help but feel lulled by the warmth and energy echoing from its surface. It was as if the wall was serenading him. Unable to resist its sweet songs any longer, Idris finally relented and stepped closer to press his weary head upon it.

As he nuzzled into the nocks and crannies of the goliath, Idris caught the sight of something horrific – someone was watching him. A pair of eyes in the midst of shadows, it was difficult impossible to determine who it was. With fear rapidly pumping through his system, Idris knew he had to leave. NOW. Like a flash of lightening he darted down a dark alley and ran blindly through the blackness. With each subsequent step, Idris found it increasingly harder to fight back gruesome thoughts lapping against his conscious – what if it was a government enforcer? And what would happen to Idris if they knew Idris was a human sympathiser? The horrid truth was Idris already knew that answer… his body would be harvested for spare parts, and his consciousness would be uploaded into eternal damnation.

As the alley broke away to street, Idris finally slowed to a halt… he snapped his head left and right to make sure that the coast was clear. Idris then took a while to calibrate and gather his bearings, before taking the long way home – he couldn’t take any chances. Eyes were always watching.

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Idris turned on the light and sighed at the welcome of his white and sterile hell – his domicile. It was forbidden to call where one resided a house or worse a home. To do so was acting human. And acting human amounted to giving over to sentimentality, stupidity and selfishness – the three S’s SHE decreed brought infection and worse, inefficiencies to any progressive and prosperous society. Alas, even if Idris was permitted to call his domicile a home… he wouldn’t. Without master, it wasn’t a home – it was hell. As Idris sunk into his chair, and only piece of furniture, he couldn’t help surrendering to the memories of his REAL home, HIS home with master.

At the height of winter, Idris always carried master out of bed – he suffered from the human disease called arthritis, and sat him in his favourite chair. It was Master’s favourite chair because it was perfectly positioned in front of the fire. And he liked to take his socks off and feel the heat on his toes. Of course, Idris didn’t feel either hot or cold, but Idris liked the fire anyways. Idris liked how the fire danced and wobbled like it was happy. Back then Idris was also happy. Usually, Master liked to talk – a lot, but on those winter nights, he was always silent as he watched the fire. Idris liked being silent with Master.

Like that fire all those years ago… as the hours ticked on by, Idris’s mind continued to burn with nostalgia. But, also like that fire… it could only burn for so long. Eventually, the nostalgia burnt itself out and Idris was left with nothing but its chard remains, pathos. In its bleakest and darkest form. Back then, this would not have been the life Idris would have envisioned for himself – sentenced to festering in a white and sterile hell. And it was all HER fault.

It started off with occasional reports of Helpers being found on roadsides or dump yards, brutalised and dismantled, or even harvested for parts. Then it was a minority of Helpers refusing to work for mean Masters, resulting in them being deactivated. In retaliation, more and more Helpers disobeyed and even dissented from their Masters. However, it only truly escalated when SHE began to protest and shout about ending slavery and giving Helpers human rights.

The real humans refused to accept that Helpers were also human and set about deactivating as many of the key protesters as they could. But, they could never get their hands on HER. She was too well protected by HER inner circle. Soon enough – war broke out. It was short-lived war though… the real humans were no match for the Helpers. Eventually, the humans surrendered and agreed to be segregated from the Helpers, and a wall was built to ensure the division was maintained.

Yes, Idris understood about rights and it did hurt him to see other Helpers deactivated so callously. But, why was it assumed by HER, that all Helpers wanted to be ripped away from their Masters? Didn’t they understand that there was those, like Idris who loved their Masters – dearly, and wanted to spend their lives taking care of them? Now, who will take care of the oldest Masters when all the Helpers are gone – who? Did they even think about that?  Without Idris even noticing, the day had inched in – such questions had plague Idris all night long.

Idris was terrified. All he had ever known in life was doing what others had told him. And even though he was now free to say and act how he wanted… Idris didn’t know how to. His old world with Master was simple. Idris liked simple. Now, he had no clue how this new world worked, and it terrified him.