Biobots
—
The Attic
His tear fell on the dusty picture, spattering in muddy streaks. Despite tear-soaked eyes he was seeing clearly, his mind’s eye awash in memories. A perfect storm of emotions pounded him, dissolving a lifetime of carefully crafted stoicism.
Moments slid by in silence.
Morning light beamed in to the dusty attic; knives slicing the space into fragments. It smelled of mice and mildew and musty old cardboard. He opened his eyes and blinked, seeing each box anew.
Did he dare open another? Unconsciously he feared what he might discover; each box a blunt hammer to his carefully crafted porcelain shell.
Soaking in his self-absorbed thoughts, he didn’t notice the box behind him crack open. Eyes peered out. Whispers.
“Is that really him?”
“Could it be?”
“He has returned!”
The tiny community in the box rapidly discussed their luck. The moment had arrived.
“Don’t let him go!”
“He’s one of us.”
“Stick to the plan.”
The lid to the box popped up as stubby limbs emerged. Little fingers and stubby limbs pried the lid open. A few of them perched on the edge. They watched him studying the attic, tear streaks evident on his cheeks.
“Tears! He fears we might be gone!”
“He looks for us.”
“We must hurry.”
He wiped his cheeks on his sleeve. This is stupid, he thought. What did he expect to find up here? He stood to leave, the floorboards groaning and creaking. Hmm. Didn’t used to do that. How long had it been since his last visit? 30 years? Maybe the boards have aged. Then again, maybe the attic wasn’t the only one carrying some extra baggage?
During this brief distraction a line of little creatures jumped from their box behind him, winding their way single file around the storage bins.
He gave one last passing glance over the items in the attic and almost missed the tiny arms waving at him. Jerking his head back, he stared at the top of a dresser. Three little creatures, each a faded pastel color, waved back. Behind them a fourth was just climbing up to the top. He had a sudden memory of pine trees and the smell of peanut butter and apples. But that was so long ago! There is no way—
More creatures joined the crowd on the top of the dresser. Some moved to the front and sat down, dangling their feet over the edge. He saw on their feet the distinct BioBuddies™ logo imprint.
Christmas. Nearly 40 years ago.
His parents had been so excited. He was sure they couldn’t afford such a toy. But there it was, under the tree, for he and his sister both. They played for hours that day, even neglecting to open other gifts.
It changed the course of his life. Has it been so long ago that I forgot?
The little creatures smiled at each other.
“He remembers.”
“It works!”
“We will be home.”
As he watched the migration from the box to the top of the dresser he wondered aloud, “how is it possible that you are all still alive?”
A large rust colored creature took a step forward, pointed directly at him, and said “you created us.”
“You — you talk?!”
They nodded in unison.
“Yes.”
“We all do.”
“Every one.”
He needed to sit. He grabbed a nearby chair and it creaked under his weight. He didn’t notice.
While the original BioBuddies toy was groundbreaking 40 years ago, it was positively ancient by today’s standards. And even modern BioBuddies typically didn’t live longer than a few years. How these originals could still be alive defied logic. Now that he thought of it, he had not heard of or seen an original set in at least three decades. Interesting. That’s about how long these have been in the attic here.
They broke his silence.
“Take us with you.”
“We are yours.”
“Take us home.”
Again he wondered aloud, “How much would an original kit sell for today?”
He could not grasp the absurdity of it. The BioBuddies toy was designed as snap-together parts to mimic life. Kids could assemble their own pets, take them apart, and reassemble as they pleased. But it was never advertised as actual life. They were understood to be disposable. Come to think of it, didn’t he remember his childhood friends throwing out kits that he later salvaged from their garbage?
They crowded the edge of the dresser, pressing towards him.
“Don’t leave us!”
“We are family.”
“We belong together.”
He contemplated his situation. An original kit would probably fetch 100x its original price. To the right seller a mint-condition set could fetch maybe 1,000x. He turned towards the box they came from and tossed its contents. At the bottom he found it, the original branded case. The recycler was still inside. Could this still work?
He placed the recycler on the ground and powered it on. The familiar startup buzz rose to an almost imperceptible hum. Wow! Unbelievable.
Without even considering the effect of his actions, he grabbed at one of the creatures, a soft pastel-red, and he stuffed it into the recycler. It clicked and hummed for a moment. Then fresh BioBuddies blocks tumbled onto the dusty floor. He picked one up and studied it. Perfect. Even the vibrant red color had been restored.
A commotion was building on the dresser. The community was chattering loudly, each creature wide-eyed as they tried to process the scene.
“What happened to Red?”
“This was not the plan.”
“We must hide!”
Thinking fast he grabbed a nearby box and swept the crowd of creatures into it. Greedily he approached the recycler.
They yelled up at him,
“We want to live!”
“We are family.”
“Don’t you remember?”
His mind was far away. He tipped the box into the recycler and they tumbled in. It vibrated with the sudden rush of material into its funnel. A couple of creatures clung to the box. He grabbed each and tossed them in without a second thought. The last creature hung tenaciously to the edge of the recycler, its feet already ingested. Its eyes popped as hope faded, then died.
The floor filled with neatly restored BioBuddies parts.
Back in his car he carefully placed the repackaged box of freshly recycled parts into his trunk. He did a quick search for the price for a mint condition original BioBuddies™ set. Just as he expected; nearly priceless. He could probably get two month’s salary without much effort.