Author: Alastair Millar

The Government Men arrived in the early morning, before Papa had even left for work. Mama, crying, sat in the kitchen listening to the voices in the living room; it was only her restraining hand that prevented her daughter Cassie, home for college vacation, from storming in to join the discussion.

“You can’t just barge in and take Sara away,” Papa said. “She’s been with us over two decades. My daughter grew up with her, for goodness’ sakes!”

“Frankly Mr Opeye,” said the big calm one with the earring, “that just makes it more obvious that we’re in the right place.”

“You know she’s registered, right? What with the stories that get around, I did all the paperwork myself! Didn’t trust the agency to get it right.”

“Of course. That’s how we knew you had a domestic at all,” said the short one with the glasses. He was nervous, fidgety, eyes darting everywhere.

“So we’re being punished for having everything above board and legal?” asked Papa.

“Look, this isn’t about punishment, or registration, or even legality. It’s simply been decided that their kind are no longer welcome here; they take proper jobs from decent citizens, and the new government has decided to crack down.”

“But she’s part of the family! You can’t expect us to throw her out on the street like trash!”

“Those subject to the Order will be taken care of, Mr Opeye,” said Earring. “Don’t worry. They don’t end up on the streets.”

“They’ll be rehoused and retrained to do something more useful to society,” added Glasses.

“Like what?”

“No idea. Not my department.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t know what’s going to happen to her at all!”

Earring sighed. “We’re not here to debate this,” he said firmly. “Ask your domestic to gather their things and come with us. We have more pick-ups to do today, and the consequences of non-compliance include jail time and a large fine. Let’s not go down that road.”

“It’s alright, sir,” came a new, soft voice from the doorway leading back into the house. “Legitimate authority must be obeyed. I’ve already packed my essentials.” Sara, the family’s Self-Aware Robotic Assistant, stepped into the lounge. Less gracile than newer models, she had a poise that many of them lacked. “Let’s go, gentlemen. The family have been exceptionally understanding owners; not distressing them further is the least I can do to repay them.”

And that was that. It was the docility that riled Cassie most; the compliance with obedience programming that ran contrary to Sara’s own interests. Later that day, she rang her occasional boyfriend, who had his own Assistant.

“Seth, listen, some feds were here, and they took… oh. You too, huh? Yeah it sucks. And I won’t stand for it; what’s the point of having a robotics degree if I do? I tinkered with our Sara, she’s got a tracker embedded. We can find out where they’ve taken her. So are you up for doing something about this, and getting our friends back? Yeah? You’ll call your cousins too? Awesome!”

And that was how it all began. Sometimes, it just takes one person to unknowingly light the touchpaper for a revolution.