The robot skyrising
The robots couldn’t take away my freedom. I wouldn’t let them. None of us could.
We were hiding out in the basement of my neighbor’s house. He had lined the walls with aluminum to prevent them from listening.
“It’s fascism, just like Skynet!” Magnus cried out as he peered through the small window.
“They’re running amok,” Imogen, another neighbor, agreed.
“We have to stop them,” I asserted.
“They’re too powerful,” Magnus complained.
“No, we cannot give into despair,” Imogen responded.
“What can we do?” he asked. “The government sold us out.”
I nodded to myself. I didn’t want to believe it, but our elected leaders bent their knees to these diabolical machines. They no longer cared about the people.
“We have to take matters into our own hands,” I realized. “We can only depend on ourselves.”
“I’ve got my family’s shotgun,” Magnus pointed to the safe on the wall. “It was my fathers.”
“I thought you said you hated guns,” Imogen recalled.
“I do. I never wanted it to come to this,” Magnus seemed conflicted.
“I have my son’s t-ball bat,” I announced.
“I can find something too,” Imogen agreed.
“Then we’ll do it tonight?” Magnus asked.
I nodded. The revolution would begin soon.
As soon as the clock struck midnight I stepped out of my own house. The bat was carefully held behind me.
I took a stroll down the street. I could see Magnus stepping out as well. Our eyes locked for a brief moment as we both walked to the end of the street.
The robots were turned off. Union rules meant they could only operate nine hours a day. Now they were ready for demolition.
I stepped carefully across the property line. The lot and its ugly robotic hub were repulsive even against the faint orange streetlights.
Imogen came from behind me suddenly and threw a Molotov cocktail over my head. It crashed in the middle of the bots and ignited the ground.
“Take that, machines!” she screeched.
I charged forward, pulling the bat back and swinging right at the head of one. There was a sharp clanging sound as the metal contraption flew right off. I laughed as it stumbled down onto the sidewalk.
Suddenly the flood lights turned on, bathing all of us in blinding light.
“Oh no, we have to get out of here!” Magnus exclaimed as he fled.
“They probably have our picture,” Imogen shouted as she chucked the remaining bottles at the structure in front of us.
Far away I could hear sirens. I knew I should’ve left at that point, but the flames began to tickle at the monstrosity they were building. I looked at it with awe.
It was too late. By that point they would’ve had enough surveillance footage to take me in. All I could do now was enjoy the revolution.
Soon enough the police placed me in handcuffs. They’d ask about my accomplices but I wouldn’t rat them out. I was a martyr, a freedom fighter. I knew my side would win eventually.
Prison was preferable to seeing an apartment building in my neighborhood.
There are some people out there who would actually agree with this take, which is weird. People who refuse to allow apartments in their neighborhood are often sociopaths or care more about their property values than housing people.
As construction becomes more automated, I expect these wealthy landowners will become more obstinate and potentially violent. It’s hard to justify attacking real construction workers, but robots might be more vulnerable.