desertworld

Desertworld

I.

It had another name once, when our ancestors had settled the planet and it was still a paradise. But meteological changes had altered the weather patterns and transformed the planet into a sandy desert.

The activities of the few hundred thousand settlers that had settled here could not possibly have altered the climate so drastically, or so we were brought up to believe. When the desert started to swallow up the soil, most of the settlers returned to the stars that had spewed them out. Only a few thousand stragglers remained and they dissolved into small groups that scattered themselves over the sandy globe. They were mostly nomads traveling the desert plains in search of the little food that remained. Some small groups became bandits that raided other groups, and it was rumored that these even devoured the flesh of their victims, because of the scarcity of meat.

I had been brought up in one such nomad tribe, and my father had been an elder. After he became ill and died, my mother having passed away before him, I was all that was left of my tiny family. I had a personal disagreement with the son of an elder over a girl we both fancied. The internal politics of the tribe was such that my adversaries were able to bring about my banishment from the tribe.

I set out alone over the wasteland leaving, I sometimes like to think, a teary eyed maiden behind. But tears could never account for the suffering I experienced as a lonely, solitary exile in the desert.
II.

Amongst all the deserted settlements that I came across this one look to me the most likely for a permanent habitation. I had no more need to wander the plains endlessly searching for nothing, with no one to care for and no one to care for me.

Yes this looked like a good place. It wasn't half buried with sand like the other settlements I had found. The streets were still half discernable under the thick coat of sand. I walked into what must have been the dwelling of the most prominent erstwhile citizens of this place. It was easily discernable by its extravagant architecture and colossal stature. It was there in the place we came to call 'the house' that I found him.

He was standing in the palour grabbing at something next to his face rhythmically and repeatedly, saying; "Die fly, die fly." I approached him and his head turned to acknowledge my presence but his physical actions and dialogue remained the same. "Die fly, die fly. he kept saying while grabbing at this elusive creature next to his ear and simultaneously following my presence about the room.

I tried to speak to him but there was no change in his disposition. I was getting quite fed up until the little bit of education I had regarding the settlers started to filter through. It was almost folklore to us, but it was said the settlers had made themselves artificial beings, known to us as robots, that had served them. One robot could serve many generations of the same family it was said.

I was amazed. I looked at it and wondered what could be done about its current malfunction. What would I do to a human in the same condition, I thought; give a slap on the back? Why not. So I did. A soft slap followed immediately and instinctively by a firmer one.

He seemed to splutter out a bit of dirt before saying; "Die fly, die fly... fuck, I've been saying that for fifty years." His hand stopped in midair and then recovered it self for the first time to his side, immediately after shooting out in a gesture of greeting. "Thank you, thank you very much." He said shaking my hand. "I am eternally indebted to you, especially seeing as there is no one else around." He added good-humouredly.

He instructed me as how to do some routine maintainance on him, which really just involved oiling his joints and washing the dirt of his solar plates. When this was done and having gone through preliminary introductions, he told me his story like I had told him mine.

He had once been a prime possession of the colonial consul who had ruled eight hundred years ago. He served in the consul family for several generations as their only aide but a newer model ultimately replaced him. The family though had a lot of sentimental value invested in him because of his long years of service and so decided to retain him for more menial and mundane tasks such as keeping the residence and estate clean and tidy. However, for all his service, the family did not regard it as worthwhile to take him along when they finally permanently departed from the planet. He was left to fend for himself and live out his electronic life alone.

"I was built to last a eternity without maintenance, but then after only seven hundred and fifty years I succumb to a malfunction while catching a fly, and spend the next fifty years stuck trying to catch it, ironic don't you think?"

III.

We became very close companions. We sat and talked most of the time and the difference in our use of language became almost indiscernible. His knowledge of the settlers was vast, greater I would imagine than any creature that ever existed.

More than that, he also gave me a complete account of how and whence they had come. I marveled at his stories of what this place had been like then. Great fertile estates owned by the rich and powerful. They had grand entertainment, which included various sports and hunting. The communal hall was filled regularly for dances and live entertainment. The streets bussled with life.

Occasionally an air craft from another settlement would bring visitors and trade. Less frequently a craft would arrive from, or depart to, an interplanetary destination, or beyond. The settlers and those that sent them planned to populate the globe, but then the sand came and put an end to their plans.

The stockpiles the settlers had left was enough to keep one man going for many lives, but still I occasionally shot a jack-rabbit for fresh meat. With my fathers old bolt-action rifle I seldom missed a rabbit even if it was running at full speed. However B, the automaton, was such a good shot he increasingly took over the shooting duties. Where I seldom missed, he never did, and our ammunition supply was not inexhaustible.

So we whiled away the years in our little sand world, undisturbed by any outside influence. We fixed an old broken-down transport, with B being the brains behind the operation and me passing the tools. When eventually he got it started we went out and surveyed the surrounding area. We came to do this frequently, taking long rides into the desert. I was quite content with B's presence, as I would like to think he was with mine. Life was bearable with someone around to share it with. Anybody, even a machine, maybe especially a machine.

He was programmed to adapt to human weakness by being a strengthening factor. He undertook all menial work without complaint, or even suggestion. He was always affable in nature and we complemented each other's existence admirably. It was never a burden to be secluded in the desert with this being.

At night we sat around in the old entertainment lounge of the estate. It had a well stocked bar and B could tolerate me when I was intoxicated. We would sit and play cards till late at night with me mostly losing. I liked to think that he had an advantage because he was sober, but it was obvious that it was because of his superior intellect.

"Rummy!" he said with a smile sitting across from me, "I win again"

IV.

He had hardly finished the sentence when the three men entered the room. They seemed almost as surprised by our presence as we by theirs.

There were two elder men of clear nomad descent and a younger half-breed, possibly one of the elder men's sons. The half-breed was the dull gray color of the indigenous people of the planet, now long since vanished.

Their guns were leveled at B who had stood up with my rifle pointing at them. The moment called for split decisions by all of us. The half-breed was obviously trigger-happy because of the tension in the air and let of the first shot. It was miscalculated and tore a hole in the wall between B and myself. Although it was a fruitless attempt it was the action from which all subsequent actions stemmed.

B fired one shot into the half-breed killing him instantly. The two old men fired off two rounds each, and their aim being steadier than their younger companions hit B with two of the four bullets. But B steadily worked the bolt mechanism of the old rifle with fluent movements and fired one round alternately into the two men, killing each of them instantly. Then he collapsed in heap on the floor.

When the shooting started I had taken cover underneath the table, being unarmed. Now I knelt beside him and he said; "So long my friend" and he looked at me and said "No good no more" then his head turned involuntarily to the front and he repeated these four words "No good no more" and again his head swiveled to face me and say "No good no more". And so the process was repeated with his head then swiveling to face me, then to face the front repeating; "No good no more"

My first reaction was to cry and slap him on the back the way I did when I met him. But I gradually came to realize that all attempts to try and revive him would be futile, so I disconnected his internal power supply and buried him. I drove out a distance with the transport to bury him because I did not want his grave nearby to remind me of my loneliness.

V.

Many years have passed since then and I am old now, not to old to shoot jackrabbits, but to old to go and fetch them once shot. I live now only on the stockpiles left by the settlers and spend my last days watching their old visual entertainment.

In the cool desert evenings I sit on the porch and reminisce about my early days with the only true friend I had ever had. Sometimes the breeze blows an occasional tumbleweed past me, as I sit and wait for death, with his departing words echoing in my mind; "No good no more."