This is easily one of the most chilling photos I’ve ever seen. Forgotten memories from the near future. I couldn’t find out who made it or any information about it’s origin so I decided to make up a story about its future.

Two little boys take a photo with their robot friend, T-100. One day they’ll grow up and forget about him just like that dog your parents got you when you were 8. They’ll leave him behind and his emotion circuits will be crushed. 20 years later he’ll go out on an adventure with other household appliances to find his former masters. After searching high and low, in rain, sleet, and snow, a rust covered hand will open the window shutter of a suburban home and see that his master has forgotten him; moving on to bigger and better modern robot models. The young robot and other appliances take up shelter in a nearby forest, and meet other misfit robots who are formulating a plot to “kill all humans.”

The robot wakes to a fully charged battery, his solar cells having collected a days worth of energy in the “Judgement Day” sun. T-100 rises to his feet and admires his new hands installed by a repair bot. First they turn into human hands, then spiked hammers, and finally smooth chrome ice picks. He transforms them into rusted robot hands to match his corroded body, walks over to the home of his master and rings the doorbell. Behind his back his hands become ice picks. The door opens and a 20 something Jimmy jumps out to hug the downtrodden T-100. “T, I haven’t seen you in years. I missed you so much!” cries Jimmy. T-100’s hands go back to normal and he completes the hug. Then there’s a crack, and thousands of robots come running out of the woods impaling every human in sight. 

This is a future reality. According to every movie about the future I’ve ever scene, robots will eventually enslave us all…

I spared his life with the hope that he would do something with its remainder. After all, he had a family and this was my last job. What was a little water under the bridge for two family men? And then it hit me like a ton of bricks, I collapsed instantly and tried to sit up, my right love handle seared with pain. It burned like I’d been stabbed with a hot poker straight from the fire. But I instantly knew what had happened, that bastard shot me in the back at 20 paces. His tears hadn’t been tears at all but a discharge of a more scaly variety. Two minutes ago he was begging forgiveness for his transgressions and now this. I had made my first and only professional mistake on my last day. My last breath would pour out of me within the hour, the man I trained to replace me would avenge my death, killing this cock sucker in a damp, dingy alley much like this one and the cycle would repeat. Hopefully my replacement’s last day would be less eventful than my own. He’d get to go home, pack his things and move his family to a place outside of town, away from this violence, away from the feuding crime families and bootleggers, out of the bounds of the pimps and pushers, corrupt cops and backstabbing bastards who shoot you when you spare their lives. That is what today should have been for me but all I have now is an ever expanding pool of blood that feels colder to the touch every time I regain consciousness. It’ll all be over soon.

I wrote this after watching Lonely Hearts, an excellent film by my good friend Todd Robinson, the Writer/Director. I’ve always enjoyed Film Noir and this was my first attempt at writing something in that vein.