Fitting Into The World of The Automatons

The sun shone like it did every day of the week. Trisha woke up before her alarm could go off despite her weariness. Last night she had barely slept, her nerves were in overdrive. She woke up and ate the breakfast that the house had prepared for her. It was the standard spinach and mushroom omelet. The same thing she had every Thursday. But today things were different. Everything was different.

Today was the day of her son Milton’s would be tested by The Automatons, the ones who ran her world. The ones who ran all of humanity’s world since The Fall.

If Milton passed, she would be fine, and the meatloaf that was scheduled for dinner every Thursday would taste fine. It might even qualify as delicious. If he didn’t pass, then she wouldn’t be able to stomach the evening meal. Trisha swallowed the pills The Automatons required her to take with breakfast and went to wake up her son in person.

The house had already prepared his breakfast for him. The hot pancakes sat on the counter and his favorite drink, chocolate milk, was next to the meal. He’ll enjoy that, she thought with a smile that quickly faded into a frown.

After waking Milton up, she walked into the shower and let the machine clean her. She was glad the process was quick because if it had taken too long, she would spend too much time in the hot room thinking. Trisha wasn’t ready for thought this morning. Her entire night had been monopolized by thoughts of how her son would perform on the exam. Every issue that he had, every one of his flaws that glared at her and indicated he was like Peter, his father, bubbled up to the top of her mind. These defects were the reasons she loved both of them. And it was the reasons her husband had been edited out.

She walked to the edge of town where the town hall encircled their colony. The Automatons would administer Milton’s test, and she would either be sent home with him or alone. “Give mommy your hand while we cross the street,” she said.

Milton looked up, “I’m too old for that.” He complained.

“You’re right you’re already ten, now hold my hand please.” He listened, another sign he might pass. She clutched his soft fingers in hers as they walked to the outskirts of town. He didn’t question the rules anymore like he usually did, and she was grateful for that.

Once they got to the offices, she checked him. The Automatons were ready for him immediately. They were always on schedule. Before she let him go, she crouched down so she could be eye level with her son. “You know why you’re not going to school today right?” She asked him.

“Yes, it’s because I have to take my test,” He said in a dry tone.

“Yes, and you will do very well. Are you nervous?” She asked.

“No, why should I be? You told me to be myself. I can do that. It’s easy,” He said with a confident and beaming smile.

She smiled then questioned if she had given him the right advice. “You’ll do great.” she said fighting back her emotions, “And when you finish, I will be waiting here for you.”

“Okay mom, bye.”

“I love you. You’re my little man, be good.”

“Of course mom.” The boy said eager to go into the testing room.

“I love you, honey,” She repeated, not letting go of his hand.

“I love you too,” he said as he glanced at the door he was going to head through for the test.

Trisha knew his mind was already elsewhere, designing another world or story that he might put to paper in the evening. And with that, she let go. Trisha had to let go otherwise she would be held in contempt of The Process.

As Milton disappeared through the testing door, she cried. The tears stopped when she thought of a reason he would pass. But they quickly started again when Trisha thought of something she loved about her son. These memories would bring the tears back, and she would doubt if he could pass the test. She would justify his success and begin to dry her tears.

The cycle of tears continued for thirty minutes. It was brought to a halt when Trisha received an update. The message read: “Milton Johnson is being held for further review. Please return home, and you will be notified of further action to take.” With that message broke the cycle. She continued to cry and didn’t know how to stop.

Trisha woke up on her couch. She didn’t remember how she had gotten there. The Automatons might have drugged her and transported her to her house after throwing a fit at the town hall. She searched her foggy memory. No, throwing a fit was something Peter would have done. Throwing a fit would have gotten her edited out too.

The memory came back to her. She had walked home navigating the streets through her tears. Avoiding looks from strangers and keeping track of her path home stressed her wild mind. She had cried and cried and cried the whole way home, but she had returned without making a scene or upsetting The Automatons.

She got up from the couch and looked at the dinner table. A single serving of meatloaf sat on the table with some broccoli on the side. The food was cold. She must have fallen asleep from exhaustion and stress. She wasn’t hungry, so she threw the meal in the trash before going to bed.

Once she was in bed, she couldn’t sleep. The house was too quiet. Milton’s toys lurked in the other room of the house. The room was filled with toys, clothes, and drawings. They would have to be thrown away to complete the editing process.

She would be given a choice to either throw the items away herself or let The Automatons come in and thoroughly clean the house themselves. Milton deserved the honor of her cleaning it out. She hadn’t done that for Peter. It had hurt too much to do it herself. This time she would do it herself.

After Peter committed his crimes and was edited for them, The Automatons came to clean her house. She suspected that they also search the home for any future plans of terrorism.

The cleaning removed things that were hers but reminded her of Peter. They were things that she could have argued to keep, but The Automatons were thorough and took it all. At the time she even thought they would remove Milton, but they had let her keep the bit for eight years. And today they had finished the job. They had taken away everything she had that reminded her of Peter.

She went to work the next day. She had to. On her way home, she decided to stop by Lauren’s. It would hurt, Lauren was the mother of Milton’s best friend Will, but they deserved to know that Milton had been edited from the system. Will was the only boy the Milton could get along with, the boys were eerily similar.

She rang the doorbell, and Lauren answered. “Hi Trisha, is Milton coming over to play?” She looked behind Trisha and didn’t see the boy. A slow realization washed over her face, and she immediately hugged Trisha. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. Please come in.” Then as Trisha entered Lauren repeated the words “Oh my god.”

Will entered the living room at the sound of the door closing and saw Trisha, “Where’s Milton, Mrs. Johnson?” The boy asked.

“Go to your room and play Will,” Lauren said in a commanding tone. It kept the boy from arguing, maybe there was hope for him. He disappeared while Lauren patted Trisha’s back repeating “Oh my god.”

Eventually, Trisha quit crying enough to explain what happened. Not that Lauren needed it. As soon as Trisha finished explaining Lauren said a final, “Oh my god.” Then the first original thing she added to the conversation was spoken, “Will has his exam next week. I hope his score won’t be affected by playing with Milton.”

Lauren then listed off a barrage of questions but Trisha was unable to answer any of them. The few she could answer she didn’t want to. They were too painful. The last one she couldn’t bear to think about, “Do you think Will is going to pass?” Lauren asked.

Trisha couldn’t think anymore, the sorrow was overwhelmed her, and she got up to leave. As she headed to the door, Lauren grabbed her arm. The woman had a crazed look in her eye. “Tell me, will my son pass?” She gripped onto Trisha’s arm so hard that the woman couldn’t get free.

“I-I-I don’t know. Maybe, I just don’t know.”

“How could you not know? You knew what Peter was like. You knew Milton, we both did. Tell me, is Will’s score going to be affected by your son?”

“I don’t know,” she screamed tugging at the woman’s mad grasp, still trapped.

“I need to know!” The woman’s eyes had filled with rage and tears welled at the bottom.

“Whatever you do don’t tell him to be himself,” Trisha said with a tug on her arm. Lauren let go. The rageful look softened into tears, and she sobbed into her hands. Trisha disappeared out the door as she heard Will enter the room and asked his mother what was wrong. The door closed before Trisha could listen to the answer.

Less than a week after Milton’s test Trisha got a letter explaining Milton’s situation. Or at least what passed for an explanation from The Automatons. It was a standard form letter that described how Milton had been removed from the colony for its own good. Trisha was to pack up all of his things to send them to him. Explicit instructions were given not to try to make contact with the boy or withhold his belongings from him. There was a kind offer at the bottom that they could bring in a team to clean the house for her. It ended with a notice that they would inspect her home after a week. If the house were not clear of Milton’s things, then they would enforce decreased rations and do it themselves.

She got to work that evening wanting to make sure that she had a reason to keep everything she could from being taken from her. Trisha sorted through all of the boy’s belongings imagining an argument for each object she decided to keep. She needed to beat The Automatons at their own game to preserve her memory of her son.

The next morning she sat in front of her breakfast after barely sleeping. The house served her a spinach and mushroom omelet with coffee. She ate the egg out of habit, but it tasted like dust in her mouth. Picking up the cup, she took a drink of coffee to wash it down. The liquid was cool. As soon as she felt it, she knew something was different. The house never did things differently. It was programmed by The Automatons. She looked at the drink. It was light brown instead of jet black. She licked the beverage off her upper lip. It was chocolate milk.

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