Editor’s note: Each year, I am blown away by the Los Angeles County high school students who enter their science-fiction short stories into the annual Omega Sci-Fi Project’s writing competition: The Tomorrow Prize. L.A Parent is one of the proud sponsors of this sci-fi writing contest, and it was my honor to present the first-place prize to this year’s winner, Ariel Preston, a student at Port of Los Angeles High School, for her chilling yet beautiful story, “‘Goodbye,’ Said the Machine.”
The Tomorrow Prize encourages young writers to use sci-fi “to explore the diverse issues humanity wrestles with, spark creative solutions, and unite the worlds of art and science,” says Rosalind Helfand, Omega Sci-Fi Awards director.
At the awards ceremony each year (this year’s was held again in the courtyard of Vroman’s Bookstore in Pasadena), professional actors perform the finalists’ stories. “Grey’s Anatomy” actress Kali Rocha brought the characters to life in Ariel’s story, which includes a caretaking robot. Rocha’s robot voice was a hit.
Ariel was astounded to hear how Rocha animated her characters. Below is Ariel’s original story, with a few words from her on how she hopes readers engage with it:
“People are inspired by the world around them, even if they don’t realize it,” she says. “Movies, literature, news or simply the peers around them…anything can light up the spark of curiosity and wonder within a person. They only need to be willing to take that spark and light a grand blaze with it. As you read the story, think and ask questions. Allow that spark to light within you and let the flames of curiosity and wonder consume your being. Ask why these events happened, ask why characters made certain choices, ask if another path could have been taken. No grand blaze can start without a spark — and no spark can be made without the motion of still striking against still.”
“Goodbye,” Said the Machine
By Ariel Preston
As Ethel lay helpless in her bed, not one regret infiltrated the thoughts of joy and peace that flooded her mind. No longer was there pain in her chest. No longer did her limbs continuously ache. No longer was Ethel sorrowful. Rattles and pulses that traveled through her body were discomforting no more. How could Ethel be discomforted when PAIA sat right beside her, speaking as if the day was ordinary?
“… And there is only a seven percent chance of rain. It sounds like today will be a good day. Are you ready to have breakfast, Miss?” PAIA asked.
Ethel would’ve waved the caretaker off if she’d been able to lift her arm at all. Strangely, that immobility didn’t bother her in the slightest.
“No,” Ethel wheezed.
“Perhaps some water?”
“No, I would like to wait for a bit.”
Then they were submerged in silence, only the faint humming of PAIA’s machinery and the traffic outside filling the air. A peaceful moment.
“Very well. However, you will need to take your first round of prescriptions in about two hours. I will assist you when the time comes.”
Ethel scoffed at the words. Was PAIA actually being serious? In two hours, she would be no more. She could feel it in her bones — the way death surrounded the room like a predator…no. That heavy feeling was no predator; it was a call. A call to come when the clock finally stopped.
If Ethel closed her eyes for long enough, she could see a soft hand reaching out from the darkness toward her, moving closer and closer. But it stopped just before it touched her frail figure — and it waited. It waited for Ethel to grab ahold when she felt ready. How polite, she thought, for death to join the two and wait during her last moments.
PAIA’s automatic voice suddenly cut through the dim silence, and Ethel saw that soft, polite hand retreat swiftly back into the darkness.
“My apologies, Miss, but I am curious. You have woken up especially early. Is something bothering you?”
Ethel was sure PAIA already knew the reason. The caretaker was intelligent and programmed to know the symptoms of passing. Ethel was curious, though, as to what PAIA would do. What would a robot say to her in the presence of death?
“Nothing too troubling, dear. I just…want to think.”
PAIA let out a strong huff of hot air and nodded her head in understanding. After several seconds that felt like eternities, PAIA spoke once more.
“Tobias and Laura may still be asleep, but Joseph begins work in half an hour. If you would like, I can call for him to stop by. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
Ethel sighed. She knew what would happen if PAIA were to try to call him. The woman knew her children better than anyone, and there had been numerous times Ethel had been sent to voicemail. Joseph had a bad habit of ignoring calls that weren’t career-related.
“No, dear,” Ethel gasped, swallowed and continued. “We both know he won’t answer.”
She smiled anyway, for it always amazed Ethel how sweet PAIA could be. In the past, PAIA would never bother to contact her children when Ethel wasn’t feeling well, most times because the woman instructed them not to. She didn’t want her sweet children to see what their mother had been reduced to since they last saw her over a year ago.
“Very well,” the machine replied.
And nothing else was said.
As the minutes flew by, so did Ethel’s strength. Her chest felt so heavy, yet lighter than ever before and so free. The peaceful ambiance of city life crawled back in through the window and flooded the room once again. But her thoughts became haunted at the mention of her children.
A small fragment deep down within her soul believed she should be happy. All three had well-paying jobs, a roof over their heads, and two even had their own families. Still, Ethel couldn’t help but feel betrayed whenever she thought of them. It was Joseph who painted her the most beautiful Mother’s Day cards, and it was Joseph who told her that some “Personal Artificial Intelligence Assistant” would be taking care of her instead of a human being. Then, he had left. It was Tobias who helped Ethel in the kitchen when he was a kind little boy, and it was Tobias that rolled that damned machine into her house and left. It was Laura who was in Ethel’s arms after the girl’s cat passed away, and it was Laura who had actually purchased the faceless monstrosity and left her alone with it.
It would take a very long time for Ethel to forgive them for leaving her alone, and she did not have a long time. The woman scrunched her nose and forced all sorrow, anger and hurt away. She was not going to leave feeling sorry for herself. She may not be able to forgive the three fast enough, but she could forgive PAIA.
“PAIA, dear,” she whispered.
The machine swiftly spun their circular head to face Ethel.
“Yes, Miss? Is there something you need?”
Using her fingers, Ethel dragged her arm across her bedsheets and grabbed hold of PAIA’s cold, metallic appendages. “Do…Do you remember that time when I locked myself in the closet? What was it for…? That’s right. It was when the injections arrived. How did you convince me to unlock the door again?”
PAIA tilted her head, recollecting the aged memory.
“If I recall this correctly, I threatened to throw out all the lemon drops hidden behind the sink.” PAIA looked back at the old woman in her bed. “That was a very long time ago.”
“Yes,” Ethel coughed out. “It was… Would you have tossed them if I didn’t come out?”
“No, because I knew you would.”
Ethel smiled. PAIA had curled their appendages around the woman’s hand and held on firm.
“I assumed so. You don’t seem like the type to do something so horrendous.” A deep but light chuckle escaped her wrinkled lips.
That was the moment PAIA established the fact they were in charge now and that nothing was going to work out if she kept fighting. It was also the moment when Ethel finally accepted help from a stranger, and the first time in a long while that she’d made a friend.
“PAIA, could you please… tell me the daily news?” The caretaker released another puff of air and grasped Ethel with her other metal palm.
“Of course. Mayor Helen Sandoval announced she plans…”
Ethel closed her eyes, listening not to the words, but to PAIA’s consoling voice. “… to which the Hollywood actress Fabian Yola accepted his proposal…”
Death’s polite hand reappeared from the warm darkness, moving closer and stopping so patiently.
“… They intend to hold a remembrance ceremony at Caddel Park on the first of…”
Ethel reached out, grabbed hold and didn’t let go.
“Goodbye, Miss, and rest well,” PAIA said. “I will remember you.”