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JUST LIKE YOU AND ME
der.
“No, please,” it said. “Don’t leave me alone. I feel awful.”
“I’ll be sure the mechanic runs a com-plete diagnostic on you before you’re cleared to go home,” I said.
It sat up rigidly in the chair, bringing a protesting groan from the car’s bent chassis, or was it from inside its body?
“Nothing looks right,” it said. I can’t seem to hear. Are you still there?”
I nodded, then said “Yes,” as it seemed to look past me, without looking at anything.
I could hear the distant siren of the ambu-lance. A high-pitched chime rang from my phone, then repeated. I looked at the screen, which read, “Subject Inactive.”
The robot was dead. Perhaps they’d be able to reboot it, or end up disassembling it. Death may not be permanent for robots, but it still feels like de
