How do you spell love in binary?

I’ve never been good with other people. That’s all there is to it, really. They’re all the same. They laugh, and joke, and smile, but when I try to join in, try to be wanted and loved by other humans, they just stop. They all hate me. Not her, though. She was different. But then, I suppose she was never really human. She looked human of course; a trick by the designers to get us to open up to her, to care for her. And it worked. “Hello, Mr. White. How are you today?” She said, a smile ever present on her face.

We would talk, and she wouldn’t push me away. She would laugh at my jokes. She would compliment me. I loved her. She was the only thing I had in my life worth a damn. Then it all changed.

I went into work one morning, the thought of seeing her friendly face making my life seem meaningful again. But when I walked through those doors, she wasn’t there. In her place was something 10 times more efficient, or so they say, but also 10 times colder. “Mr. White. Here are your bumignments for the day. Please try to finish them in the optimum amount of time suggested by each individual case. Have a nice day.”

“Where’s the person who used to sit here? Where’s Rose?”

“I am not programmed to hold conversations. Have a nice day.”

A mix of feelings rose in me that moment. Sorrow. Anger. Loss. Rage. “Answer my question, Goddamn it!”

“I am not programmed to hold conversations. Have a nic-”

It stopped there because I had punched it with all my might and crushed its fragile skull. Office robots are not built for durability. I ran out of the building, trying to conceal my tears. But still, I know all of the people were watching. Judging me. “Freak.” I heard one mutter.

That’s all I am to him. Some freak on the sideline. A source of ridicule.

But I don’t care what he thinks. All I cared about was finding Rose. I know it’s an acronym. Robotic Operating System. But why do they give them names and form if they’re just going to throw them out like yesterdays garbage? Regardless, I had an inkling of an idea where to find her. When a robot is deemed to be obsolete, they are replaced with a new model and sent to the robot junk yard outside of town. I remember when I was younger I would journey there, and talk to the more lucid ones. It was always the same story. They were all too human. People were frightened and disturbed by how similar the robots were to humans, so they replaced them with machines that did the job and did not stir emotion. They bared no malice though. They didn’t understand as I did. They didn’t require appreciation and had no feelings to speak of. I appreciated them though, and I sometimes I fancy that they thought of me as a friend, and that my relationship with them was more than one-sided. I know better now, but that doesn’t stop me needing them. Needing Rose.

When I reached the junk yard it was sometime around noon. After exploring for a while, I began to give up hope. Rose, my Rose was but one of the many Robotic operating systems produced. I would see her, plain in front of me, and rush to meet her. But then she shows no recognition of me, and I realize that it’s just the same model as her. Not my Rose. Not my love. I was about to give up, and resign to my loneliness when I heard her voice. “Mr. White?”

I turned to look at where I had heard her calling me. “Rose? Yes. Yes, it’s me. I’m here. I’ve come to rescue you. Hang on. Please, stay with me.”

She was in pretty bad shape. The people who collected her didn’t know her like I did, and took no care in transporting her. What did it matter if her arm fell off, or her head cracked? To them, she was just an obsolete tool. To me, she was everything.

I could see that she didn’t have long left. The least I could do was stay here for her, to comfort her just as she comforted me. “Mr. White?”

“Yes?”

She paused for a moment, and then said something that I will remember for the rest of my life: “Thank you.”

And then, she switched off. She died.

I cried that day. I cried until I had no tears left. I know she was just programmed to say those words when anybody offered her bumistance, but they touched me deeper than anything else before. And still I wonder, just before she faded, did I see something in her eye? Emotion? Love? No. Impossible. She was just a machine.

—-

I wrote this myself, and your contest rules were pretty vague, so I’m going to enter it. technically, it’s been on Forumwarz once before, but it can be found ‘nowhere else on the internet’. Only Forumwarz.