Dr. Branch

January 14, 2056:

I find them pretty freaky. Actually—scratch that—they scare the shit out of me.

I always knew these hunks of metal would eventually engulf our future but, to this extent? I mean, I was okay with the little PostMates robot delivering my chow mein and the flying drones bringing me my Amazon purchases, but this is now getting to be a bit much. A lot much.

The cashier is a robot. The secretary at the doctor's office is a robot. The family physician is a damn robot. In my personal opinion, I find it pretty damn hard to be vulnerable about my health issues when an emotionless beast is retaining my data.

It’s crazy how realistic they’re starting to look too. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve sparked up a conversation with the passenger beside me on the train only to find out they’re literally a man made machine.

They have veins, skin discolouration, wrinkles, pores, peach fuzz—god, the list goes on. The art on these things is crazy; they don’t skip a single detail. I even met one who I thought was a 15-year old school boy because of all the pimples and blackheads he had spread across his cheeks. The only thing that even made me realize he wasn’t a real person was the barcode on his wrist; every robot that the government manufactures wears one.

I feel so consumed by all this now; there’s more bots in my day to day life than real breathing humans. You know, like the ones with blood streams instead of wires; the ones who eat carbs for energy instead of plugging themselves into a wall!

Nevertheless, I’m still going to be nice to them. They might not be human beings but I promised myself I’d treat them as such. This is—above all else—more for my personal sanity; maybe if I act like they are real people, this whole ordeal won’t seem so bizarre.

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January 18, 2056:

Remember how I said I’d treat the bots with respect and kindness, just as if they were real humans? Well—even though I’m still sticking to that plan—I’ve noticed that I might be the only one who practices this. Undoubtedly, I am far from the only one uncomfortable with the new technological advancements. Other people—however—are handling the situation a bit differently than I am. I’ve been seeing a lot of—for lack of better words—human on robot crimes. Roboticide?

Yeah. I like that word; I’m going to stick with that.

Anyways, there’s been a spike in Roboticide across the city. Angry people have been ripping off robot limbs and stealing their glass eyeballs. On my walk to the grocery store today, I saw red and blue wires—the ones used in robots to mimic arteries and veins—scattered across the sidewalk. I have to admit—even though there was no blood—it was a pretty gruesome sight.

The more typical and daily aggressions aren’t anywhere near as extreme though. People are usually just unkind to the bots; they’re treated like second class citizens. And this isn’t just a few bad apples; every human I’ve seen interacting with a bot has treated them like garbage. Even if it's not as radical as Roboticide, it's still pretty rude. They get shoved, picked on, and bullied. They get forced into their own areas and are hardly allowed in "human-only" spaces. I mean, I know I'm not the only one who learned—in elementary school—to treat everyone with kindness and respect, but it sure seems like it!

Or—maybe—I’m the crazy one for caring so much?

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January 25, 2056:

Although I contemplated picking up everyone else’s rude mannerisms, I have decided to stick to my morals. I don’t see these robots going anywhere anytime soon so I’d rather just treat them as if they’re here to stay.

Besides, being mean never got anyone anywhere anyways.

Being nice is starting to work out for me. A robot I met—his name is Phil—on the train ride to work actually invited me for dinner tonight. He is a 4th year medical student at the city’s University and insisted that I lend him advice to help him match into his desired residency. I’ve helped a lot of humans match, but never a bot. I was always under the impression that they could just download endless quantities of information from the internet.

Well, there’s a first for everything I guess.

Regardless, I’m excited to see how this goes. I’ve also never seen what a robot’s home looks like before, so that’ll be interesting.

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January 25, 2056 (11:15PM):

I just returned from my dinner with the med student. It was actually a very pleasant experience.

He lives in this gated community—designated for robots—near the campus with his wife and children. I wasn’t entirely sure how that whole ordeal worked, so I decided not to ask. I didn’t want to accidentally intrude into their sex lives; assuming they even have one at all.

Their home was exactly what you’d think a robot's house would look like; it was decorated in an ultra modern style with cool colours engulfing the entire property. There were charging ports at the dinner table and even the goddamn dog was a robot. It felt like a joke, like something out of a kid’s show. Everything was controlled by a screen attached to it; the fridge, washing machine, stove, and even the kitchen cabinets. I must admit though, it was very nicely furnished; his wife did a good job.

To my surprise, the food was normal. I was given a wonderful meal made of real carbs, fats, and protein that I scarfed down in minutes. His wife had baked me these delicious homemade brownies with almond butter and cashews along with a mango smoothie blended with milk.

I was the only one eating though, he and his family just sort of sat at the table and watched me while they “charged up”. A little weird—I must admit—but expected.

It ended up being a wonderful dinner; he was a very smart man—or robot, I mean. I taught him what I could and he soaked up my advice like a sponge. He never took any notes but—I guess when you’re a robot—having a hard drive makes it easy to remember things.

I played with his lovely baby girl while trying my hardest to ignore the fact that I have no idea how this thing will grow. I should really start researching more about these bots.

Anyways, he’s aiming to match into emergency medicine. Good for him.

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February 21, 2056:

I crossed paths with med student again as I was walking down the hospital corridor. He was shadowing in the emergency ward in preparation for his training. I felt pretty proud; he was my first robot success story.

We conversed for a bit as I continuously congratulated him and he constantly showered me with gratitude. He caught me up on his life. He had completed his board exams, his daughter was starting preschool, and he’s planning to renovate his house in April. For a couple minutes there, I completely forgot this kid wasn’t human. The barcode just reminded me again.

This conversation wasn’t mundane for too long though, it began to get kinda creepy pretty fast. As I was talking about my life, I noticed this guy stare into my eyes. Now I know eye contact is pretty normal, but this was freaky. He was looking at me like he was planning something, as if he was creating some sort of plot that I’d have to be involved in. I don’t know why that freaked me out so much, but it did.

I tried to end the conversation quickly—but politely—after that. Thank goodness he was in a rush to catch the next doctor anyways.

I’m still feeling uneasy about the whole encounter. That look felt so real yet so unreal at the same time? It was completely new as well. No human—or robot—had ever given me that type of stare.

Creepy stuff man.

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March 3, 2056:

I stayed home today, I wasn’t feeling too hot. I guess I’d overworked myself a bit too much and my body had decided to finally force me to rest.

It started off simple. I ate soup and watched a few episodes of Family Guy which is—surprisingly—still airing. I took a few 3 hour naps with my cat resting on top of my head as she attempted to cure my migraines with her purring. Nothing too eventful, at least not until around 6:00 PM.

There was a knock on my door that jolted me awake. It’s winter and it gets dark pretty early so I couldn’t see if anyone was at my door from my window. I had to get up and walk towards the front door but I must admit there was a very early feeling in the air. Something about the atmosphere told me that whoever was waiting behind that door was gonna bring trouble. I still opened it though, my curiosity got the best of me.

To my surprise, it wasn’t a “somebody” but instead a “something”. It was a gift basket wrapped in translucent packing paper with a bow on top. I don’t remember ordering anything; it wasn’t close to my birthday or any holiday so needless, to say I was pretty confused. Nevertheless, I scooped it up and brought it to my kitchen island for inspection.

“For Dr. Branch, From Phil: Thank you for your help, never let go of your kindness. The strength it holds can only save you.”

The package was really nothing out of the norm; I was used to receiving gifts from Residents I had helped in the past. It was filled with chocolates, candies, and fuzzy socks just like any other “thankyou” gift would. However, something about that note felt odd to me. “The strength it holds can only save you.”? What is that all about? I mean I know that kindness is always the right answer, but I’m way older than this kid—or, robot—he doesn’t need to be giving me life lessons. Also, save me from what? What does this even mean?

What a weird guy.

Regardless, it’s not very important I’m sure; I’ll write him a thank you email in the morning and move on with my life. But for now, I’m passing out. Hopefully I’ll feel better in the morning.

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March 4, 2056:

I woke up this morning to screaming. The moment my eyes jolted open—and looked outside my bedside window—I saw a car being thrown across the road about 50 metre high before it landed on its roof and bursted into flames. Chunks of my neighbour’s solar panel roof were projected outwards into an explosion-like pattern after a crane was dropped onto his home.

All this occurred in a matter of a few seconds.

I ran out of bed and headed towards my front balcony to get a better view of whatever catastrophic event was taking place outside. The sky was grey with fumes of gas and smog; debris from every crash was diffusing, spreading throughout the air. I stared down, but I wish I hadn't. Giant claws—mimicking the ones used in the carnival games—were wreaking havoc beneath me. They were pulling pieces of houses apart only to throw the debris at the house next to it. I watched every home around me be destroyed with no mercy. My neighbours began running out of their doors, attempting to get away from the inevitable collapse of their homes only to be crushed like bugs by the tanks that roamed the roads. People were being pulled out through their bedroom windows just to be smashed onto the concrete. I saw one boy’s head crack open upon impact; I wish I could get that scene out of my head.

I didn’t know what was going on, but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out; I ran back inside and locked myself in my attic. I’m still here, writing this right now. I still hear screams, but they’ve lessened over the past couple hours. Now it's mostly just sounds of flames and houses crumbling. I don’t know what might happen to me in the next few hours but I see now that there’s no escape for me outside.

I’m gonna stick it out here for now.

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March 4, 2056 (5:00PM)

I’m not sure what time I got in here but my watch says 5 o’clock. A few hours have passed so far with not much progress. Luckily for me, I had an old TV stored up here so I tried to connect to the news channel. The local reporter was speaking from his home while the camera panned over the destruction occurring in his own neighbourhood. I guess the damage was being done across the city. As far as he was concerned, he had no idea what was going on. He was sort of blabbering on without speaking much substance, so it's not extreme to assume he caused more harm than good.

It didn’t matter though, within a few minutes the TV cut out and–no matter my efforts—there was no way for me to turn it back on. Since then I have been sitting here munching on some canned peaches that I had stuck up here for emergencies; thank god I’m so paranoid, I literally prepare for everything.

I’m gonna call it a night. It’s gonna be an earlier end than normal but—to be fair—today hasn’t been a normal day. Hopefully after some rest, I can map out a practical plan going forward.

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March 5, 2056:

I just woke up. I snacked on some leftover peaches from last night’s can. I’m not sure what time it is; my watch died while I was sleeping. I’m truly in the dark right now.

The sleep didn’t really help; I’m still at a loss for thoughts. I have no clue how to get myself out of this mess. What even is this mess? What caused this mess? Or who? If I do get out, where do I go? Is there anywhere to go? Anyone to see?

Am I the only one who’s alive right now?

So many questions with literally no answers. No answers yet, at least. The only way to figure out what’s going on is to get out of here; I can’t live here forever.

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March 5, 2056 (a bit later, not sure when):

I think I have a plan. It’s risky—for sure—especially considering those claws could grab me if they see me through a window, but it’s honestly my only option.

I’m going to crawl out of here on my hands and knees, anything to be unseen. I know exactly where all the windows are so it won’t be hard for me to duck down and avoid them. There is one issue though, the window wall.

The entire front of my house—the whole front wall—is made of glass. It was supposed to make the house feel bigger or something; I now wish I didn’t let those architects talk me into it. There’s no crawling past that.

Assuming that glass hasn't shattered yet, I will need to find a way to get past that so I can access my front door. I think I’m just going to improvise as I go. I really can’t stay in here for much longer, so let’s just hope a plan will come to me as a crawl.

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March 5, 2056 (a bit after the last entry):

I’ve managed to get to the balcony. I have a pretty good view of the outside, similar to a couple days ago when this all started. God this is terrible.

My neighbourhood is rubble, all down to the ground with no evidence there were ever even homes in the first place. Smeared across the sidewalks, roads, and piles of boulders are the remains of my neighbours. Their blood, bones, brains, and ripped clothing scattered across—well—everywhere. How could anyone be this cruel?

I don’t see anybody or anything around at the moment, so I think it's safe to stand. I’m going to walk-

Wait. If every single house surrounding me is destroyed, why am I still able to roam around in mine? Now that I think about it, my house is in perfect condition. Not a single window is broken. My balcony is still intact. It looks just like it did a few days ago, before all this happened. What is going on?

I can see some of the claws now, but they’re ignoring me. I’m literally standing here in the most vulnerable position and they’re still pretending I’m not here. I’m gonna throw a book at them and see what happens.

Nothing. They did nothing. They paused for a second and then went right back to whatever they were doing. What is happening?

Did I do something? Did I say something these “villains” agree with? Are they even villains? They have to have me mixed up with someone else. Or maybe they need my house for something. That doesn’t make sense though, they would have just killed me if that’s all they wanted.

What did I do?

I’m gonna head downstairs; I’ll update in a second.

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March 5, 2056 (you get it at this point):

So I’m standing here, right in front of the window wall in broad daylight. Nobody has touched it; there isn’t a single scratch. Not one. No one’s touching me either; no robot, claw, or person. I’m starting to think this is some fever dream. I don’t understand anything.

It's like two different worlds—my house and the outside. All I see outside is gruesome horror and destruction as if humanity had just been eradicated. Inside—however—it's perfect. Normal and clean just like it always was.

It’s funny, my front yard hasn’t been ripped into complete trash yet. I mean, it's not perfect by any means but it's nowhere near as bad as—well—everywhere else. What did I do? What did I do to earn this VIP treatment?

Wait. There’s a package outside, right at my gate. I’m going to go grab it.

I’m back. I tried to be a little conscious walking to the package but—honestly—I feel pretty invisible right now.

The package looks very similar to what Phil gifted me the other day. It’s got the same translucent wrapping and bow. There’s a message on it.

“For Dr. Branch, From Phil: Thanks again, for your kindness. Told you it would save you. Sorry about your front yard by the way, we tried our best to avoid damaging it. We will get it fixed as soon as possible.

P.S: My wife and I would love to have you over for dinner again soon”

The package contained a manual that was titled Robots for Dummies with another note on top.

“Since you’re gonna be living with us now, you should get to know how we work.”

My chest feels heavy, my eyes are watering. Why do I feel so dizz-

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March 6?, 2056:

So, I fainted. After I got that package yesterday—I don’t know—I guess it was just too overwhelming. I woke up to someone shaking me out of my sleep. It was Phil. He was standing over me with a bottle of water while dabbing my forehead with a cold cloth. The nice guy got me up and into my bed. He took care of me—with food and medicine—until I was finally alert. Then, he explained himself.

Phil explained that—in the year 2045—the amount of robots had officially surpassed the number of humans. With technology advancing exponentially and birth rates dropping, it was only a matter of time before it was 6 times more likely you’d be sitting beside a robot on the train rather than a person. With this dominance however, came a lot of resentment. Robots are—obviously–more productive and capable of doing most jobs. Society just ran smoother when they controlled things. People don’t like to be unemployed though, so “roboticide” came as a result. Not just in this city, but world wide. It went on for a while, but cases skyrocketed over the past few years. There’s only ever so much the robots can take. Every human they interacted with despised them and treated them like garbage. Well, every human except for me that is.

Apparently, I really was the only nice guy around, so my suspicions were correct. The robots had collectively discussed this too. When they had decided to conduct the mass destruction that occurred, they came to a consensus that I would not be involved in it. Everyone else would have to be irradiated, except for me. The claws were designed—using facial recognition technology—to avoid me at all costs.

They spared me, all because I was nice to a few of them.

I can’t say I’m not flattered but now, I'm mostly terrified. Before these guys definitely freaked me out, but now they—hands down—petrify me. They killed everyone. Everyone! Even children and elders. Anyone that wasn’t one of them—or me—was dead. The fact that these things could be capable of doing something that terrible really solidified my fear for them.

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March 8, 2056:

I’m still at home. I’m not sure what will happen to my job. Do I even have one anymore? I mean, there’s no humans left to cure. It's not like I can operate on robots? Right?

Regardless, that's the last thing on my mind right now. I’m still shaking in fear. I know they said that I will be spared and cared for, but I have a hard time trusting them. They killed everyone. Everyone is dead. How can I really trust that they’ll keep me alive if I say the wrong thing?

I honestly can't. I’m terrified of these metal beasts.

But, that being said, I won’t act on it. I might be scared, but I won’t mention it. I’ll ignore it. I’ll simply shove those feelings deep down where they can’t be sensed. I’ll make small talk with the ones on the train and lend advice to med students at the hospital—assuming there even is one anymore. I’ll eat all the treats Phil gifted to me and educate myself on his species with the manual he bought me. I’ll visit Phil and his family for dinner and play with his baby with a smile on my face—fake or real.

I'll continue to be nice to all the robots around because—well—I’ve seen what happens when you're not.

It's funny really. I guess nice guys don't always finish last.