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trophyFor Better or Worse (2025 November Art Challenge)Death was hardly ever thought about or something to be concerned with. At least for M45P18, (or “MP” for short). It was hard to comprehend what it even meant for robots. Humans had theories about afterlife’s and omnipresent gods to please. Families and friends they could be leaving behind. Opportunities that were missed or fun times never to be experienced again. Even all the emotions that could come from something else dying. Alas, a robots only function is to work, then to recharge their battery. There’s no need for any extra function’s not related to work. Emotions, connections, worries, exhaustion- that’ll just interrupt work. A worker bot that can’t work is just a useless waste of good metal. So why was MP and all the older worker models going to be incinerated? MP pondered this to themselves, while staring out of the garbage truck window. They watched all the same looking buildings go by. Sleek white tall skyscrapers on top of sleek white metal ground. All fenced away from what lays underneath. (The fence’s were painted white too, of course.) Everything almost melted together in a way. MP’s programming never prepared them to face something like this. One minute, MP was installing new beige flooring to go with the freshly painted beige walls. That also was to go with the beige furniture and wall fans. The next minute, their work is interrupted and they’re scooped away onto this very truck. MP owner’s probably got a newer model to replace them. They might have been over a decade old, but MP could work just as good as those newer models. Come to think of it, the other older models still could too. There was no need for any replacements. MP’s programming didn’t allow them to do much, feel much or even say anything. Even if they could speak, what would it even do? Who would listen to a useless hunk of metal? Nobody. So, they just kept staring out the window. The truck swerved at a rapid pace, going from left to right, one direction to the next. It was like this ever since MP was thrown in. However, it felt oddly smooth for a few seconds. Almost like a brief sense of, (what humans would call), calm. Suddenly the truck began to violently spin, crashing off the road. Before it flipped a couple times more, launching right into the white fence. All the robots were shaken all over the place. Being thrown from one side to the next. MP was no exception, being launched onto the very back. That wasn’t the very end the things. Almost like a cruel joke, the garbage truck’s back door opened. Sending all the robots into the dark bottomless pit below. MP fell helplessly into the void, watching as everything got darker and darker. So this was it huh? This was going to be MP’s fate. Not an incineration, just falling into an endless pit. This felt like a crueler fate than being burnt away. But what else was there to do but wait for the inevitable end? It was a long way down before MP smashed onto what seemed to be ground. It was hard to tell in all the darkness. They were crushed into a million pieces. MP’s broken parts launched everywhere. Everything was dark for a good while. It almost felt like hours were passing by. Then a warm light cut through the darkness. It glowed ever so slightly. MP was entranced by it, quickly grabbing it. They opened their hand, letting the light back out. Their hand suddenly appeared more.. doughy. MP stared in awe before the light got brighter and brighter. Quickly it consumed everything. MP quickly jolted awake, almost stumbling to the ground. Their vision spun around at everything. The bed they were lying on, the bedroom they were apparently in. These new colors were also mesmerizing. MP had never seen colors like these before. They were so.. bright. Something else caught the corner of MP’s vision too. A long mirror. MP stared at their reflection, instead of a tall metallic sleek white robot, was a small child. One that looked to be about eleven-ish. Big eyes, flushed cheeks and short messy hair.They were rebuilt obviously, but why as a human? MP slipped off the green blanket, looking at the long night gown and pants covering them up. They lifted up the nightgown, noticing a large bandage wrapped around their chest. Looking in the mirror again, there was a huge one wrapped around their head. Actually it seemed like there was bandages all over MP’s body. Lots of tiny bandages on their short arms and tiny legs. All hidden underneath their clothes. MP’s hands were tightly wrapped as well. All of them were painted with these brown blotches too. Curiously, MP slide their hands under the bandage on their head. They felt this odd, crusty dry patch. It let out this awful sensation, making them pull away. That patch felt horrible and extremely uncomfortable. It hurt. For the first time ever, MP began to panic. Their palms began to sweat, their body began to violently shake, the room began to spin. They were practically gasping for air. This was far beyond just advanced programming. Could they really be human? But, it can’t be? How? MP closed their eyes really tight, waiting for this all to end. The sound footsteps interrupted MP’s episode. It was hushed at first, before getting closer and closer. Alarmed, they jumped under the blanket then curled up into a small ball. Maybe this was all just some sort of malfunction; a dream? Was this a hell for robots? The door opened. A smaller figure stepped into the bedroom, placing a tray on a dresser. The figure peered over the bed, slowly pulling away the blanket. MP felt the figure staring over them. Slowly MP opened their eyes, staring back. It was a tiny old lady. She was hunched over, and covered with a large crochet cloak. “Are you alright dear?” She asked, her voice was quiet yet raspy. MP grabbed their pillow, shoving it over their head. The old lady chuckled. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I don’t bite.” She sat on the bed, beside MP. “I found you scratched up, lying in a small puddle outside my garden. You poor thing, I’m sure you’ve been through so much. You’re a very long way from town. I’m sure your parents are worried sick about you.” MP took the pillow of their head, slowly getting up. They draped the blanket over themselves, mimicking the old lady’s cloak. “You do come from town, correct?” The old woman asked. MP tried to speak at first, but only a small squeak came out. They were about to try again but a sense of shyness washed over them. So they just shook their head instead. “My gosh, where do you come from?”MP paused, this threw them for a loop. They had never been questioned before. MP thought for a minute, really pondering the question. What could they try to say that would make sense to this human being? Something that could explain the strangely complex circumstances they were experiencing. MP had absolutely no clue so they just shrugged. The old woman grabbed the food tray and brought it over to MP. “Why don’t you drink some water and have something to eat? I’m sure that’ll jog your memory. I have some bread and a nice sweet persimmon for you.” MP stared down at the nice tray of food. They awkwardly poked at the water. They nearly jumped up in disgust. “It’s just water dear.” The old woman looked rather confused. MP thought back to how they saw their owners drink water. Trying to act from memory, they grabbed the cup, and took a big gulp. MP’s face twisted as they swallowed. Maybe they’ll have better luck with the Persimmon. They grabbed it, inspected it before eventually taking big bite. It was very squishy but really sweet. MP ate the whole thing in a matter of seconds. “It’s good right? I loved to eat them when I was your age.” MP nodded, now taking a large bite of the bread. “How’s your memory now?” She asked again. MP stared for a minute, still trying to find a good honest answer to such a question. Instead of trying to find any, they just shrugged again. The old lady thought for a moment. “Why don’t you stay with me for a while? At least until your memory comes back. Then, I’ll return you back to wherever you came from. For now, I could use extra help in the garden.” MP gobbled down the rest of their bread, before just nodding. “Do you at least remember your name?”MP knew they couldn’t be silent forever. They took a deep breath, about to sound out their name. Instead something else slipped out their tongue. “P…Per..Per-simmon?” “Your name is Persimmon?” The old lady repeated. It wasn’t what they were intending to say, but it wasn’t such a bad name either. MP, now Persimmon hesitantly nodded. “Well no wonder you like the fruit so much. I’m Rhubarb, it’s nice to meet you Persimmon.” Persimmon replied with a small smile. Persimmon spent the next couple of days learning how to garden. Picking fruit and watering plants. With every plant name Rhubarb told Persimmon, they tried to sound it out. Rhubarb also checked their bandages, slowly tending to their scabs until they went away. Days grew into weeks. Weeks grew then grew into months. Overtime Persimmon learned how to do lots of things besides gardening. Speaking, baking, sewing, reading, and much more. They were even given their own crocheted cloak by Rhubarb. Persimmon learned of all the new colors. All the shades of brown dirt, the pinkish blue sunsets, the purples in lavender plants. The textures too, all the delicate blades of grass and the harsh spikes of roses. It was all so dazzling. Time had also lent itself to forgetfulness. The days of a past robotic life became murkier slowly yet surely. Eventually it turned from a distant memory into a forgotten dream. The missing pieces to a forgotten puzzle. Being human was no longer something foreign. For better or worse, It was now the only thing Persimmon knew.trophy