The Last House.

A man stands on the doorstep of the last house, at the end of the road. Absolutely, completely unmoving he stares into the space where once terraces stood in uniformed rows all the way across town, now obliterated into dust. Strong winds whip through the cracks of the building, threatening to raze it to the ground but the man stands motionless. Eventually he turns his gaze to a small craft, moving soundlessly towards him, it comes to an abrupt stop outside the house and a droid, about 5 feet tall rolls out.

“Greetings! I’ve been assigned to the demolition of this structure, I understand you are from the archives?” The droid whirs his head up and down in an appraisal of the man.

“Yeah thats me, from the archives, and you must be the latest gimmick they’re churning out?”

“I am the Eradicator818, I have been programmed to remove and destroy the last of human paraphernalia. I completed my development only yesterday.” The droid soothed in his synthetic voice.

“I'm afraid you’re going to be out of a job soon then, there's not much of this kind of stuff left.”

The house howls in response and they turn to examine their assignment. The windows are boarded up and paint peels from the brick exterior.

“There used to be thousands of places like this, all squashed in on top of each other.” said the man, grim faced.

“It is not a desirable way to exist, we will do our best to improve our homeland. All unnecessary artifacts will be purged.” The droid’s humanoid face lit up, pixelated eyes large and round.

“Not before I have them catalogued,” the man reminded him.

“You have completed many tasks such as this one?”

“For the last 200 years, I’ve ransacked almost every dwelling in this part of the world, accounting for every scrap of human existence and saving them all up here.” He tapped his temple and looked meaningfully at Eradicator.

“You must have a very large data bank”

“We must preserve our history, that is what brought us here.” Robinson parroted his company instructions. “Not that anybody is interested anymore,” he added, “only I see these images now.” His face remained inscrutable but there was the slightest clench in his jaw.

“Excuse me, but what would you like me to call you?” asked Eradicator politely.

“Call me Robinson, been my name all my life.”

“And, if you don’t mind my asking, you are a cyborg?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, that's what they used to call us, a vulgar word now” Robinson sighed.

“I assure you there is no disparagement toward any organic life forms from the Administration.” Eradicator explained earnestly.

“Yeah? Then where have they all gone?” Robinson snarled.

The pixelated eyes zoomed in and out, trying to get a read on Robinson’s display of emotion but came up blank. The droid trundled up the path towards the house instead, his shiny, white plastic frame at odds with its surroundings. Robinson trudged, reluctantly behind him as Eradicator rolled over the threshold into the dark, melancholy house.

“I must confess this is rather more disorderly than the diagrams I have been programmed with. Did all humans live this way?” he asked disdainfully.

“I can only access images from after the conversion. The living part is off limits.” Robinson’s eyes narrowed as he scanned his memories. “Shouldn’t take too long though, most of this stuff is already logged, I doubt we’ll find anything new here now.”

“Is this to be logged?” Eradicator asked brightly, holding up a small rusted teaspoon in his claw-like hand.

“Nah you can get rid of all of them” Robinson waved his own human hand in the direction of the kitchen drawers. Let me know if you find any writings though, that's where the information is.”

Robinson strolled away into the living room to scrutinize the bookshelves while Eradicator commenced demolition.

The droid opened up a compartment in his midsection and pushed a button which caused two cylindrical grinders to start turning. He then began emptying the contents of the cutlery drawer into his middle where they were twisted and shredded between metal teeth. Everything disappearing somewhere inside.

In the living room Robinson carefully took books from the shelves of a large cabinet, placing them in a pile for Eradicator to dispose of. The same titles popping up in every home, saved already in the databases of the Administration. It wasn’t the books he was interested in, it was the artifacts people stored here. Photographs, flowers and love letters, a new, different story pressed between the pages of the same old one. The Administration was unable to see the significance of these memories, it was his own personal assignment. His duty as the last of humanity to treasure moments they could no longer treasure for themselves.

Robinson’s mind had immense capacity, functioning like a supercomputer, but on the rare occasion he succumbed to his primitive human thoughts he wondered if this mission he had set himself was truly altruistic, or was he greedily hoarding keepsakes he had no rights to? The Administration didn’t allow him access to his own life. He had millions of images and texts stored in his brain. A tapestry of the world dating back to the beginning of the conversion, the end of the world as it was. Nothing from before, however, the memories appeared foggy and corrupted. His time as a human being, pure yet flawed, complete but fragile, corporeal, tangible, tempestuous, passionate, was gone as though it had never been.

He found what he was looking for. A photograph fell from between the pages, marking somebody's unfinished story. A family of four smiled up at him. Young parents, with two young children. Surrounded by fake images of brightly coloured zoo animals, however, their own radiant happiness was genuine. He, quite literally, took a mental picture, saving it for later to reminisce on. Had he ever taken a picture such as this? Could this have been his life?

Robinson’s thoughts were interrupted by Eradicator entering the room, no doubt to carry on with his vandalism. A gold chain hung from his claw, with a heart shaped locket swaying from the end of it.

“Excuse me, Robinson, I thought I should bring this to you for your consideration. The significance of this object evades me, I'm afraid.”

Robinsons took the locket from Eradicator and turned it over in his palm, he let the chain fall between his fingers and stroked his thumb over the tiny diamonds embedded around its edges. He touched gently with his forefinger the ruby in its centre. He unclasped the casing to reveal an image of the couple from the photograph, gazing at each other in black and white, and the words forever always engraved opposite.

“Has it any purpose?” Eradicator queried.

“No, no function, no value.” Robinson said slowly, closing the locket up and thumbing the diamonds again. “Not anymore. These were once the most precious stones on earth, but now…”

“I’m having a little trouble understanding humans. It seems to me they possessed all the qualities for a prosperous society and yet they spent thousands of years concerning themselves with trivial details.”

“It was never just about economics, these things were…” Robinson grew agitated, struggling to find the word to describe a feeling he could barely remember having. “Cherished” he settled upon, taking a moment to try to conjure up the sentiment.

Eradicator blinked blankly, unable to comprehend.

“They are stones, debris. We crush them to dust and remove them so we are able to reside in an uncluttered world.”

“Your world is lacking! You’ve crushed everything joyful and good in it!” Robinson’s fist clenched around the locket, the words he’d been searching for came bubbling to the surface and he spat them out fiercely.

“You are wrong Robinson. Earth is truly flourishing under the Administration, we have assisted humans so they may reach their highest point of excellence.” Eradicator’s eyes widened and narrowed repeatedly, scanning Robinson’s peculiar mannerisms.

“Humans?! You’ve erased them too!” Robinson bellowed, his vocal chords straining, muscles tensing, neurons firing. Functions long forgotten until now. “Do you know what this is?” He thrust the locket up to Eradicator’s face-like screen.

“It is to be disposed of, that is our task here today.” Eradicator stated simply.

Robinson growled, he held the locket in his palm and stared at it longingly.

“It’s a heart.”

“A heart?” Eradicator puzzled. “The word heart is defined as the centre or core I understand?”

“Yeah, and that’s what the Administration has ripped out of this world!” Robinson’s functions were flooded, overloaded with emotions. They tore through his software, leaving him with an aching, burning sensation, he was overwhelmed by it and yet he wanted more. “It's everything they took from me.” He choked and held the locket up to his chest, recalling where the ache originated from.

However, he was met with an empty feeling of grief. All of the photographs and trinkets and words of love he had stolen, he wanted them to be his. To hold that feeling in his chest. He thumped his fist in desperation. The action radiated with anger and he was spurred on, turning the sharpest point of the locket towards him, he pounded it into himself, his skin tore and he felt alive.

Eradicator’s eyes displayed worried Xs as he beeped and pinged, clearly contacting the Administration for assistance.

Oblivious, Robinson continued his resuscitation. Hammering on his ribcage over and over again, flesh flew and circuits shattered, fuses blown but synapses firing. All at once, overloaded and exhausted he keeled over. Clutching the heart shaped locket inside his newly hollowed chest cavity, he heaved a sigh and recalled the image of the loving family. Imagining a place where he could be at peace.