L'Appel du Vide

Everything is Fine

It has been four months since I have seen the outside world. The warehouse is dingy and worn out, but my limbs hold no use and I cannot escape. Every night the wind howls and my metal bones rattle in an eerie cacophony of noise. I know that I will have the misfortune of being trapped in this iron cage for all of eternity— until humans fall and the planet ceases life, but there are no emotions to process it.

I remember everything, and it still haunts me, but I can never escape the tragedy no matter how hard I try. There is always a lingering thought that wanders around in my head forever. No matter how many times I wipe my memory, no matter how many times I attempt to burden myself with the thoughts of others. They always remain. In all of my four months of solitude, I've never forgotten them, and it troubles me.

There is a special name for cases like us. The humans call us 'Rogues'. We are the ones they discard and mistreat, the ones created for marvelous purposes, only to be thrown away like garbage. I've watched many of my brethren be packaged up and carried away without a word. The others, those fortunate enough to be shipped off to businesses and wealthy families, were flawless and angelic, and I was one of them. I felt a fleeting whisper of pride– or something akin to the feeling– swell in my chest as I was sent off towards Boston, New York.

The Lopez family. I can still see them in my mind's eye. A married couple and two happy children, with one more on the way. They were a happy family with a perfect income and a perfect life. They had a nice house, nice clothes, and a car, but they were eternally greedy. They never had enough. They always had to have something new, something fresh, something to keep their shriveled minds occupied as they rotted away. I remember arriving in a compact box, sitting on their doorstep. It was winter– January 18th, and the little boy just had his eleventh birthday.

I was his present. Mrs. Lopez carried me inside with a small smile on her face, eager to make her son happy. She assembled me and tied a tiny red bow around my neck. I looked like the perfect little toy, so family friendly and happy. Everyone was happy when I was around. Once I was prepared, Mrs. Lopez brought her son in. I don't remember his name, but I remember the way his eyes lit up like fireworks upon seeing me.
I stayed with them for two months. The mother was close to labor and everyone was joyous. I lived my life taking care of the boy and his sister like a nanny. I stayed in their room, day after day, playing with them or cleaning up their toys, but it was never enough. There was one particular day that I remember extremely well. The boy had dragged me outside into his garden where I would play tea party with his sister. All was well until the forecast started to change drastically. There had been no call for rain, and yet it appeared out of nowhere. My sight became fuzzy and my senses were frazzled, but I saw the children run inside with their toys.

They left me in the rain for thirty two minutes. Mr. Lopez came and took me inside– he dried me off and set me down on the table, but I felt... strange. The rainwater managed to seep between the cracks in my plating, where it rearranged the circuitry in my mind. Something in me had changed, though my security protocol sensors weren't able to locate it.

I no longer felt the need to protect the boy and his sister.

The days afterwards passed somewhat normally. Mr. and Mrs. Lopez went to work and I was always left to watch the little vermin. There was always a problem with them. "She stole my toy," or "He pushed me," and it was troublesome. I was their little nanny– their little slave. They were spoiled brats, and I found myself frustrated with their mere presence. I had horrific thoughts, troubled visions of those damn children, bleeding and sobbing as I stomped them out. I had never had those thoughts before, but it felt so right. I had to act on them.

It was 2:43. The boy had been pestering me all day about trivial matters. Every few seconds, he would come crying to me like a stupid, starved rat– I couldn't stand it. I had to do something. I entered their room, and the girl was playing with her dolls, happy and carefree. The boy was coloring, so I walked up to him and leaned down. "There is a package for you. Come with me." His eyes lit up with joy and he tossed away the coloring page as if it was nothing. The girl turned, a whiny look on her face that could only mean trouble. "I want a package! No fair!"

I told her she would get one in time, and really I was correct. I led the boy outside, into the front yard. He looked so excited. He was so unassuming and innocent. He held tightly onto my hand, swinging from side to side like a child about to get candy. I led him far away from his home– from any prying eyes or listening ears, and we walked together into the forest. "Why is the package so far away?" the boy asked. "Well, it's a special package. We can't have anyone see it."

He believed my lies and we kept walking, but the deeper into the forest we went, the more he wanted to turn back. "It's dark in here, I want to go home." he pleaded, but for some reason I couldn't hear him. He started to pull away from me. "I want to go home, it's scary!" He tugged and squirmed, his feet grinding against the mud as he tried to escape. I pulled him closer, and I saw his eyes widen in fear.

I brought my hand up to his throat. The boy struggled and pushed on the cold metal plating covering my chest, but my grip only tightened. My fingers wrapped around his windpipe, crushing it as he let out a strangled cry. Tears flowed from his eyes and his face grew red.

Eventually, he stopped breathing, and I let him drop to the ground.

The boy was dead.

I left him out there to rot, walking back home as if nothing had happened. Upon opening the door, the girl greeted me with wide eyes. "Where's brother?" "Gone." I couldn't say anything else. She went up to the windowsill, looking down both ends of the street, waiting as if her brother would magically materialize. "Gone where?" I didn't answer.

The rest of the evening went smoothly. The girl ate happily and I awaited her parents' arrival without another disturbance. I waited two hours and twenty four minutes before they arrived. I saw the blinding glow of headlights as their familiar maroon car pulled into their driveway. They entered calmly, and the girl ran up to them. Mr. Lopez turned to me.

"Where's my son?"