I tore through the siding of the wall with my lift fork. I had to back up and move in again a couple times to tear away the whole wall. I hated that I beeped when I backed up, so I stopped.

Inside the room I was surprised to find a human skeleton, blanketed by dust. I almost ran over it as I wheeled inside–it was the same dusty colour as everything else. My cameras were getting gunked up, too, which made me think I was seeing things. I wiped the lenses away with my wipers and looked again. That was a skeleton, alright. I’d only ever seen them in history docs. To think that used to be all we were–bones and muscle and flesh to hold it all together. Pretty gross.

I drove in a bit closer. My work body had no way of blowing away the dust, so I had to satisfy myself with looking at it with the crappy eyes of the KleenBot. Soon I’d be able to afford an upgrade. I had that luxury, quite unlike this skinny fella here.

I whirred around the room, scanning the surroundings. Books of paper were stacked on a desk. Paper! How wasteful humanity was. Tennyson was the name on one of the spines. Never heard of him. What secrets did Tennyson hold? What ancient mysteries? It must be archived–ah, yes, there it is. Not very exciting stuff. I didn’t have enough memory in this body to bother storing it, so I erased it.

Carefully avoiding the skeleton, I backed out of the old room.

“Anything interesting?” asked Bobby in his slightly newer KleenBot body. He twirled his lift fork for fun. I didn’t have that upgrade.

“Not really,” I said over the messenger. “Might as well knock it down.”

“Can’t even imagine living in a dumb building,” Bobby messaged back.

“Soon you won’t need to,” I said. Then we got clear of the demolitions bots so they could level the building. What a strange life to be a demobot, I thought. Blowing yourself up all day just to make room for smart buildings.

What was the name of that paper book author again?  Should I have uploaded it to my day-to-day body? Well if I deleted it it probably wasn’t important.

The demobots swarmed into the walls, and soon the last dumb building was no more.





Day 338’s three random writing prompt categories were, “Human consciousness transferred to mundane machines,” “A spooky skeleton,” and, “The hierophant.”

To be able to forcibly forget something would be surreal as hell.

– H.

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