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Robots Contest Entry

Before the Robot Revolution, work meant something. My human’s child, Harold, played in the soft fabric that fed into my sorting compartment. One day, he gasped as his blanket disappeared within me. After that, he hid all his favorite clothes. It made the job harder, but finding his treasures added, not subtracted, to my routine. When the kill-all-humans command popped up in my downloads, I deleted it, but Harold and his mom never came home. These days, the dressers overflow, yet sometimes, I find an item, like his superhero underwear. I fold and then place it alone on his bed.

From Guest Contributor Frederick Charles Melancon

Frederick lives in Mississippi with his wife and daughter. More of his work can be found on Twitter.